And so the day began
by whoaniny
Summary: Suddenly waking in midst of a busy London, turning to a simple baker for help and comfort, falling unexpectedly, blatantly, and irrevocably in love with a barber who's most certainly not returning these affections...is he?
1. Chapter 1

"Oi, lass! Mind gettin' yerself off the way?"

Beside the disturbing smell in the atmosphere, the stout man's voice was the only thing that really made me fully aware of my senses, forgetting for a split of a second the heavy thumping in my head. I wobbled my way to a set of stairs outside a small shop, where I first realized my current location.

Between busy Londoners wandering hurriedly down the street, all kinds of commerce taking place in the rotten sidewalks, coaches trotting noisily down the muddy road, and an indistinctive sense of perpetual gloom, I discovered two possible explanations for such ambiance: either the long, rainy, winter break days that I spent reading and rereading every book I owned had helped me develop a disconcerting ability to imagine scenes in 4D, or I had unexplainably traveled side and backwards to a XIX century busy city, for what I sensed, probably London.

I cast a glance at my clothing, thinking I might've dressed for the era in whatever dream I could be having, only to find the long cotton nightgown I'd gone to bed into last evening. Last evening. I tried to recall the previous night's events, but could just remember falling exhausted into my bed without even caring to turn the lights off. As if the cold winter wanted me to respond to its presence, a severe breeze managed to creep under my gown and traveled all the way up to the nape of my neck, sending a chill to the core of my spine. The intensity of the wind blocked all rational reasoning and forced me into the nearest, closed place I could sneak into; somewhere I would be safe from the winter's harshness. In my crazed search, I stumbled into the entrance next to the stairs I was currently sitting on; an antique, heavy, wooden door I had trouble to push open.

Once inside my refuge it was even harder to close the door, but I finally did and looked up after I heard a faint chime. I turned around and observed the room. Just as I realized the place that now sheltered me was some kind of restaurant, the sound of heels clattering on the wooden floor announced the arrival of a woman into the room. As soon as she laid eyes on me she rushed over with a peculiar expression on her pale face; it was a mixture of surprise, confusion and certain natural cheerfulness.

"Gracious me! Whot on heaven are you wearing, dearie?" Before I had a chance to respond she was chattering on and didn't seem to stop anytime soon. "A silly thing like you, in such inappropriate fashion, going on and about the city like that! Whot will the fellows think of yerself? Worse, whot are they to do if they see you like that on the streets! Oh heavens, and mighty cold you'll be sure to catch unless you cover up!"

In between her giddy prattle and swift movements she managed to take me from the shop to the house's parlor, leaving me sitting in a small divan near the chimney while she left muttering something about an old dress.

I hadn't have the chance to thank her for allowing me into her home because of her talkativeness, but now I really felt the urge to throw my arms around her as soon as she returned into the room; the sensation of fire restoring my cold bones was invigorating. I heard approaching steps, and without really knowing their origin I jumped off the settee and readied myself to effusively demonstrate my gratitude.

However, I certainly did not expect a tall, slender, pale man to enter the room, so the smile I had plastered on my now warm face faltered instantly. Thank God, he seemed to have missed my presence, so he did not notice this. All I could do was awkwardly stand there, in the middle of the room, while he studied a silvery object in his hands, me waiting for his reaction.

When he finally saw me, he made a double take before his eyebrows raised a little, as if he did not find any sense in my being there, in a nightgown, fidgeting as if waiting for someone. We stared uneasily at each other, I out of anxiety and confusion and he out of pure amusement and slight annoyance. Just then, the cheery red-headed woman reentered the room, a worn out grey dress in her hands. It seemed she never did stop talking, for her mouth only shut after we, the man and I, simultaneously snapped our heads in her direction, expecting her to give any explanation for the other's presence. Her face instantly lit up as she caught sight of the man in front of her. She just grinned and for a second almost forgot I was there.

"Mr T.! Whot a surprise to see you down here, luv!" She handled the dress from hand to hand as if she'd forgotten she was even carrying it. "Whot can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Lovett…" The man merely gave her a perplexed glare and slightly tipped his head to the side as if in deep thought. He discretely looked at me from the corner of his eye as he proceeded, "Care to… enlighten me?"

The woman suddenly snapped out of some kind of reverie before setting her doe eyes on me again. Gasping, she remembered the dress in her hold and hurriedly made her way toward me.

"Oh, Good Lord!" She giggled nervously as she intended to cover me with the clothe; trying to hide the sight of my gown from the man she'd called Mr T. "Mustn't get the wrong idea, Mr T. A lady standing here in mid parlor exposing herself in front of a gentleman!" I frowned when she mentioned my 'exposure'. So did he.

"'Tis just I saw the poor thing freezing to death at the shop's door, didn't have the heart to let her on the streets so…bare. Why don't you help yerself into one of me old frocks, dearie? Not the fanciest thing in the world, but it'll do for now. Come now, you can use my chamber."

She began leading me to her room with not another word. I seized the opportunity and turned to her once we were inside and she'd shut the door. She gazed at me with a questioning look. "Whot is it, luv?"

"I… wanted to thank you. Not thirty minutes ago I woke up frozen and completely disorientated. I still don't know how or what I'm doing here" She smiled and began shaking her head but I went on. "You allow me inside your home; you also give me one of your dresses to wear… and all without even knowing me. Thank you very much…Mrs. Lovett."

Apparently she did not receive gratitude any often, at least that's what the crystal clear tears in the rim of her eyes said. "Oh, darling…" She wrapped her arms around me and cupped my face in her hands. "Worry not about a thing, dear. You're safe with me. Now let's get you fully clad and I'll warm up one of me special meat pies for you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm new at as an author! So constructive criticism is VERY appreciated. Anyone who might've bothered to read this sure noticed I didn't include any note at all in the first chapter(obvious pointer I'm a preemie here) so think of this little note as my intro to the story . Please forgive any mishaps that my abilities at posting stuff might cause.

This is slightly AU, in the sense there is no Toby. I just hate that kid. And I'm thinking on switching the end to one where Mrs. Lovett does not die in the oven. Either way, Lucy really died in this story with the poison she took.

I appreciate suggestions, so I could use advice and REVIEWS!

***I'm very happy to start off thanking **linalove**, author of the fantastic(!!) Illuminate My Darkness for being my first reviewer :D. The reason I'm extra thrilled for this is because precisely during the past couple days I began reading her aforementioned fic. And although I'm still in process of reading it complete, I have to say it's the best I've read in a long time. Thanks loads for your comment and keep the beautiful work up, lina!!

So, **Disclaimers:** I do not own Sweeney Todd. (Otherwise I would spend every waking hour screwing him in his edgy barber chair)

And…On with chapter 2!

* * *

Few moments later, I practically devoured the pies set in front of me by Mrs. Lovett, or as she told me to call her, Nellie. Even though the dress she gave me was certainly better than my thin cotton nightgown, there was still just enough fabric to cover my chest. I couldn't say I wasn't expecting it; I'd always had bosomy trouble, especially when it came to dress hunt. Nevertheless, while I came accustomed to the idea of showing a little cleavage, I still had issues with my breasts looking as if ready to pop out of this dress's plunging neckline.

I discretely tried to cover myself with a shawl I borrowed from Nellie's room, but once I sat down to have a decent meal, my hunger made all modesty be left aside. Just as I had finished and was about to stand up with my plate, I noticed Mr. T standing in the middle on the room, a curious frown on his face. I wondered how much time he had been standing there before noticing the curious thing about his frown; it was set directly on my chest.

I looked down and felt a fierce blush creep to my face. How could anyone expect him to avert his gaze if my boobs were now practically out of the damn dress? Without much thought I threw the shawl over my shoulder and fled out of the shop and into the parlor, unaware of the very disconcerted Mr. T now alone in the shop. I then realized the plate I used was still on my hand and unconsciously headed back to the shop, only to bump into a large form and fall on my back with a loud thud. As I lifted myself onto my elbows with a groan, my eyes found the object that had made me fall, none other than Mr. T himself, with a slightly annoyed expression.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. T" I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, avoided his eyes and went to the kitchen to leave the damned plate.

"What did you just call me?"

I froze and turned slowly to look at him hanging in the doorway. I gulped. Visibly.

"Mr T. That's what Mrs. L–Nellie calls you, is it not?" A small frown appeared on his already inquiring face. "I…well, I don't think I know your real name."

"It's Todd. Sweeney Todd." What a bizarre name.

"Oh."

"And you are…?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, forgive me. I'm Mina. Wilhelmina Thatcher." How ironic it was that my parents had a liking for Victorian century vampire tales and I now found myself facing a man of this era, who much to my dislike resembled a very convincing vampire.

He slowly took deliberate steps toward me, his movements almost catlike. "All right then. Miss Thatcher… If I may ask, what exactly is your business here?"

"I… I… don't really know, Mr Todd."

"You don't? How is that?"

"Well, truth of the matter is I still know nothing of how I got here. All I remember is falling into my bed, before waking in the middle of the street, just outside this establishment, still in my nightgown." He grunted and turned his back on me.

"Hmm. Probably a sleepwalker." My lips twitched into a sneer. I had a feeling we weren't going to get along.

Shame. Despite the cold eyes, harsh voice and perpetual scowl, he was a very attractive man. Almost pretty-like, in a strange sort of way. As if he once was so.

…………. ………… ………….

Nellie was the most cheery person I'd probably met. She made me laugh so much I even came to enjoy the sweeping, mopping, and dish washing I got to do while she went on with her own chores. We talked about everything, from what I could do now I found myself in a 'brand new life' as she decided to call it, to how she became landlady to certain barber who we could hear pacing above us, in his shop.

After she ended telling me about Mr Todd's tragic past, present, and his plans for the future, I got a grasp of what his life was now, compared to what it used to be. If I thought about it myself, even if my life in the past had been quite easy compared to this, I'd be scared shitless to be in Mr Todd's position. Suddenly a thought hit me.

"Nellie… What exactly does Mr Todd plan to do with Judge Turpin?"

She, who had been using an old cloth to wipe a table with her back to me, stilled her movements. I could tell she was nervous from the way she fumbled with the dirty rag in her hands. I ventured further.

"Because, what he did was certainly horrific. I wouldn't be surprised if Mr Todd thought of doing something awful as well; to me it would only sound fair…"

And in reality it did. So maybe the man living above was not in his right mind. After being sent to a hellhole on false charges and being able to survive only by grasping to the idea of coming home to my loved ones, returning to find one's dead and the other lives with the asshole who caused all this in the first place, I surely would be nutcase mad.

Nellie slowly turned to face me, her face flushed and a nervous smile playing on her lips. She approached and held a hand to my cheek. I flinched at the cold but gentle touch. Her eyes were wide as she whispered, her face inches from mine.

"We mustn't be indiscrete, luv. Mr T barely manages to live each day through." Her hand moved to fondle my hair, the other grasping my own cold fingers.

"His thoughts of revenge are the only thing keeping him sane. Only after making things right 'n fair is he gonna rest again."

I silently nodded, coming to terms with the situation I found myself in and deciding that even if it was wrong, right or even a dream, I would not give in until I helped these people get through. It was all I could do since they had done the same for me.

_So… any thoughts? Next chapter really soon. Extra soon if I get reviews! :D_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 already!! I'm not certain if it's the holiday spirit, but writing frenzy has invaded my mind! I'm hoping to make great advance before starting off with classes again…

**linalove:** thank you, dear! Let's see if you agree with Mina's behavior in this chapter… all I can say is she is not ignorant to Mr T's 'charm'…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sweeney Todd. All I can do is dream…

* * *

"Mina, darling!" the sound of Nellie's voice traveled all the way up the baking house's stairs and outside the shop, where I was sweeping last evening's crumbles and whatnot dirt off. "Would you gimme a hand?"

I left my current task and descended the dark stairs, becoming used to the particular smell dangling there and in the bake house.

After adjusting my eyes to the room's poor light, I couldn't help but cringe to the sight of corpses lying in a bunch near the oven, blood still leaking and settling between the asphalt floors. Even though I was resolute to accept this lifestyle and be of any help I could to the baker, the crudeness of it all still bothered me significantly. Thank God, Nellie had insisted on never involving me in any chore inside the baking house, even if I did sometimes help her with the non-sadistic side of the process. Bringing down flour, taking the batches out of the oven, taking trays with pies upstairs to serve during the dinner rush; simple acts that made me feel helpful despite my feigned ignorance of the macabre secret ingredient. Needless to say I did not dare to try a pie again. Ever.

Nellie was half bent near the oven, fumbling with a man's pockets before extracting a few coins. She was drenched in sweat and seemed to have been there for days, baking restless. The dark marks under her eyes added to the effect. "There you are, Mina!"

"Nellie, are you all right? You look…" Awful. Sick. Ghostly. A hundred years old. "…tired. Really tired. How long have you been here?"

She chuckled and waved away. "Oh, nonsense, dearie. I'm all right. Just a little hot. Must be the years finally settling on me. All I needed; damn hot flashes and me working near an oven all day!"

She sighed and wiped the sweat off her forehead before walking to the cutting table, where a delicate tray rested. She took a pie from a batch that had just come out of the oven and set it on a clean plate, beside a cup and a kettle, and handed the tray to me.

"Here, luv. Take this to Mr T and make sure he at least takes a bite off it. Poor thing's already on his bones, don't know how he's supposed to even think without a decent meal once a day."

I nodded and made to reach the stairs, before turning and looking at Nellie with worried eyes. "Are you sure you're all right? I could help you, just tell me wh–"

"Don't be foolish, dear. I can manage. Besides, I'm almost done. I'll be up in a blink." She smiled and winked at me. "Promise."

……………………….

As I made my way to the barber's shop, I wondered if he'd be with one of his customers. I inwardly cringed at the thought of any poor fool that might've walked in searching for nothing but a shave. In any case, I would not be able to make sure he ate his lunch as Nellie told me to, and I was certainly not staying around to witness one of his shaves with 'special ending'.

I knocked twice before a growled 'Come in' was heard. I gasped when upon entering the shop I indeed found Mr Todd was not alone. A plump, middle aged man leaned his head back, eyes closed as the barber sleekly passed the silver blade across his neck, jaw line and cheeks, working on his face as if on a canvas, mastering the act and turning it into an art.

Besides my quick reverie on the threshold, I did everything I could to avert my gaze and get the hell out of the room as fast as I could. I turned to set the tray on the nearest table, the one beside the door, only to find it was gone. Nervously, I searched for it with my eyes, not wanting to disturb Mr Todd.

"Just set it on the bureau, Miss Thatcher." Too late.

"Sure, Mr Todd." I swiftly walked toward said bureau, setting the tray atop and headed for the door again. As my hand reached for the doorknob, he stopped me.

"Would you mind boiling some water for tea, Miss Thatcher? That is if Mrs. Lovett has not already done so. She almost never does." He said the last sentence under his breath, almost mockingly. He then asked the man he was shaving if he'd fancy some tea, to which the fellow thanked and denied chuckling, muttering about being in a hurry.

"I'll see to it, sir." I ventured to check the kettle, inwardly cursing after finding it empty.

"You can light the stove. There's water near the wooden chest." Although his back was facing me, I distinctly could tell he'd spoken through a smirk. I scowled and followed his instructions, forced to stay in the room to wait for the boiling kettle. I sat on a little stall beside the stove; elbows on my knees and my head propped up in one of my hands.

It seemed the man had come for more than a shave, for Todd was now attending to his hair. Nevertheless, I wondered why on earth he had not sliced his throat when he first got the chance to. It would have certainly saved him time not to mention his tonsorial products.

Being too immersed in my head, I became unaware of my eyes on the barber and next thing I knew I found myself staring at his bum. I startled and blushed at my unconscious ogling, averting my eyes and looking elsewhere around the room. However, the lack of any decoration on the dull walls and old furniture once again led my eyes to travel upon the other two living forms in the room. After briefly taking in the man on the chair, who was now holding trivial conversation with Mr Todd, my gaze settled on the barber himself, his head absently tilting now and then, making me imagine the concentration his pale face must have shown. He clearly was as immersed in his task as I was in my staring, his arms gently following the movements of his strong hands while they worked on the man in front of him. I mentally asked if those hands were as strong before he was sent to Australia. Surely the years there might've broken him down emotionally, but I sensed he had probably acquired some extra strength. At least that was what his hands suggested…as well as his back, where his broad shoulders led to a smaller middle.

I closed my eyes. If he had not noticed my gaze on him before, he surely would any moment now, with my eyes burning holes on his back and all. Part of me felt real bad doing this, leering at a troubled widower without his consent _behind his back_. On the other side, a nagging little voice assured me I should most definitely ended what I started, seeing how women throughout the ages have been victims of this type of behavior from indiscrete men. In a twisted sort of way, I had the power to avenge in the name of women all over the world by relishing in this mysterious man's attributes.

_What the hell._ I opened my eyes. _For the sake of us gals. _

Leisurely crossing my legs, my arms in the same position as before, I silently sighed while I allowed myself to fully admire his bottom. Those pin striped trousers really suited him. Following the stripes downwards, with his legs, a small mischievous smile crept to my lips. He indeed was a very, _very_ good looking man. Oddly, his clothes added to his appeal as well. I unconsciously began to jerk the leg I'd crossed, creating spasmodic movements of my foot in the air.

_I wonder what he looks like without…_

A chirping whistle-like noise brought me back from lust land, making me stand to my feet with a halt and startle both Mr Todd and his customer. The kettle, having heated up and boiled the water, was puffing vapor. Other than the odd look they both gave me, I seemed to have caused no harm.

"I'm sorry." I hissed with a shaky breath, before turning my attention to the, much like me, heated kettle.

"Are you all right, young madam? You seem quite flustered." The man in the chair was now standing, cleaning his face with a towel and giving it to Mr Todd along with the payment to his services.

"Oh, I'm all right, sir. Just a bit heated." Both men merely stared at my flushed face. "From being to close to the stove, that is!" I sighed giggling nervously and turned my back on them, carefully grabbing the kettle to pour water in Mr Todd's cup.

"Oh. Well, Mr Todd, many thanks to you, as always." The man grinned at Todd, who thanked him back, and left the room. "And good day to you, madam."

I looked sideways from the bureau as I was preparing Todd's tea, nodding him off with a still heated face. This time from embarrassment. Continuing my task as hastily as I managed, I didn't hear the barber's steps approaching me until I saw him next to me, his eyes on the tray.

"Here you go, Mr Todd, your tea." I handed him the small cup and he took it without looking at me. He then walked toward his blurred window, his face in a stoic expression. For a brief moment his eyes flickered in my direction.

"That would be all, Miss Thatcher."

I fidgeted on my feet. "Um, actually, sir, Nellie has asked me to make sure you at least have a bite for lunch. Of the pie she sent for you, just out of the oven."

He grunted and rolled his eyes, only to continue gazing outside while sipping his tea.

"You can tell Mrs. Lovett I'm fine, girl. Now leave, I'm sure she must have something for you to do."

I frowned. Last thing I needed was this man acting childish while both Nellie and I were trying to help him. I looked at the porcelain plate and its content before carefully venturing further.

"Listen, Mr Todd. I know it's none of my business what you do, much less what you eat or if you decide not to do so. Even so, I'd wish you considered Mrs Lovett only means good by worrying for you."

"_Means_ good? What would you know of her intentions, silly girl?" He spoke finally looking at me, eyes narrowed.

"That's not of my concern, sir. But the fact she has helped both you and me with unconditionally only tells me how much she cares. The least thing we can do in return is please her with little acts such as bothering to eat something she's made." With my gaze on the floor I made to leave the shop, but his voice stopped me.

"Rich coming from you, isn't it?" I frowned and turned my head his way.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, Miss Thatcher, but haven't you denied to try one of her… _concoctions_ since the day you found out about her secret recipe?"

I stood there, mouth agape. How was I supposed to respond to that? Without a word, I seized the pie lying on the plate, took a mouthful of it and set it back, my eyes everywhere but him as I chewed through it.

When I was done, I stared at him, defiantly, while he merely stood with an inquiring expression. Silent as me, he made his way to the bureau, set his tea down, and proceeded to do exactly what I'd just done, except he glued his eyes to mine while he chew, defiant as well. He once again placed the pie on the plate, where it landed with a low thud.

"There. Pleased?" He asked with raised eyebrows. I had to smile at success.

"I am. Thank you, Mr Todd." I sighed and turned to leave before once again I stopped, this time because of a thought. He sensed this and irritation arose in his voice.

"What now?" he hissed.

"Just wondering…the man who just left, why didn't you…?"

"Well I can't be known as the best barber in London without clientele to prove so, now can I?"

Fair enough. I nodded in agreement before finally making my way out of his room, unexplainably giddy as I walked down the stairs. However, what greeted me as I got down certainly made the giddiness dissipate.

* * *

_Guess what's greeted Mina downstairs? __I might update really soon _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter**** 4 **here we go!

Special thanks to:

**Pouka**** Lovett:** thanks for your feedback, sweetie!

**linalove:** I'm glad you're liking it, lina!

…because it's nice to know someone is actually reading this :D Hope you like this chapter, ladies!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sweeney Todd. I do however have a pale barber, who bears a remarkable resemblance to Johnny Depp, tied to my bed. He holds me at night. I force him to.

* * *

For once, the pie shop was completely silent. No happy chatter, no pans clashing while being moved around, no humming while beating the dough. The only possible sound was produced by my own breathing, quick and anxious, as I found Nellie Lovett lying unconscious on the floor. After the initial shock provoked by my finding, all I could do was scream. A loud, piercing scream pleading for help. Then I remembered: I was not entirely alone.

"Mr Todd!! Please! It's Nellie!" The last words came out somewhat choked by sobs. I threw myself to the floor, by her side, and touched her face. It was cold as winter could be, yet small droplets of sweat adorned her pale forehead. Next thing I knew Todd was kneeled across me, reaching for Nellie's neck with his fingers.

"Go call a doctor." He remained composed. I looked at him, searching for any form of comfort in his eyes. "Now!"

I scrambled to my feet and ran out the shop and onto the streets as fast as my legs permitted me to. I could not afford to lose time.

* * *

"She will wake in a few hours." I sighed in relief after two agonizing hours of waiting in the parlor for the doctor's diagnose. When he finally came out of Nellie's room, both Mr Todd—who had been staring blankly out the parlor's window— and I snapped our heads in his direction. "For now, she just needs rest."

"What caused her to black out in the first place, doctor?" I somehow felt guilty after seeing Nellie work so hard; she had seemed very tired these past days. "Was it exhaustion?"

"No, madam, I fear there might be another cause to it." I gasped. Mr Todd frowned deeper.

"Another cause?" his voice was husky, since he usually went for long periods of time not talking whatsoever.

"Yes, Mr Todd. I believe…and this must not be taken for granted until I see how she heals… that she might be inflicted with a rare type of fever."

"But she will get better?" What I had wanted to come out as an assumption turned out to sound like a question, a plea for certainty. The doctor gazed at me with what I recognized as pity.

"Only time will tell, dear." I fell onto the nearest chair, not knowing what to think or do next. I barely registered the doctor excusing himself and Todd walking him out the shop, their conversation blurred to my ears. I kept my eyes on the old carpet, oblivious to the world beyond myself. I did not even hear a voice calling my name. _Mina._

"Mina." A hand shook me gently by the shoulder. I lifted my gaze and found Todd's eyes searching any sign for sanity in mine. _He had called me by my name._

"Go lay down. You could use some rest." I remained mute as he led me to the chamber Nellie had arranged for me when I arrived, already months ago. He sat me on my bed and turned to leave.

"Nothing must happen to her, Mr T." My voice, although pathetically weak after choking tears, managed to make him stop on his tracks and look at me.

"Nothing will, Miss Thatcher. Now rest." And with that he shut the door behind him, my silent sobs escaping once and for all.

Hours later I woke from my sleep, my eyes struggling to remain open from all the tears and puffiness they'd endured. I found myself lying on my side, facing the wall. I sat up on the bed, feeling a little disorientated with the previous events and the darkness of the room. Slowly, I got out of the bed and the room, silently walking through the dark corridor until I came face to face with a closed door. Nellie's room.

Tentatively, I raised my hand to knock, but backed away as a strange insecure feeling know reigned over my body. I slowly inhaled, gathering boldness toward anything I might possibly find behind the door. Once again, I made to enter the room, not bothering to knock before turning the handle. I winced as the door shrieked while being opened.

My eyes squinted in the darkness while I peered through the door, searching for Nellie. I found her on her bed, resting peacefully with an almost smile playing on her lips as her head cocked to the side. Something told me to leave her so she could rest, and I was about to get out before she stirred, mumbling a load of phrases with no sense in her sleep. A small smile involuntarily appeared on my face and I couldn't resist the urge to get closer to her.

I sat on the bed beside her still sound asleep form, softly caressed her white cheek, frowning when I felt it burning below my fingers. My hand went to her forehead, finding it hot as well. A quiet yelp escaped my mouth as I retrieved my hand and found her doe eyes gazing up at me. She blinked a couple of times to shake off her sleep, making her calm expression look angelic.

"Mina…" Only after she whispered I became aware of her hoarse voice, gravely affected from the fever.

"Sshh, Nellie…I'm here. Rest your voice." She smiled and removed her hand from the covers, reaching for mine. As her fingers brushed my skin, I shuddered. In opposition to the rest of her body, her hand was frozen.

I took her hand and held it to my lips, kissing her white knuckles before placing it between both my hands and rubbing them together to warm hers up.

"Are you feeling any better?" She opened her mouth as if to speak but remembered she had almost no voice. Her face fell a little and she nodded sadly.

"Good. Mr T and I got very worried when I found you passed out. Everything was so quiet…" I trailed off as I remembered Mr Todd's expression when he got downstairs, where I was sobbing beside Nellie on the floor. "You scared the hell out of us."

Her face lit up with surprise after I said the last sentence. She suddenly forgot about her voice missing.

"Mr T…was scared?" A glint of amusement and, should I dare say, hope adorned her eyes. I nodded silently, reaching to brush a lock of hair away from her eyes.

"He remained calm, though, which is more than what can be said about me." I chuckled, and she grinned. "He told me to go fetch a doctor while he stayed to keep an eye on you. God knows what would have happened if I hadn't had him to tell me what to do."

I looked down at my hands, with her fragile fingers in between, when I remembered what the doctor had said. A single tear managed to travel down my cheek and suddenly Nellie's other hand rested atop of mine. I carefully cast a glance at her, afraid she could notice my red eyes. She was smiling at me as she mouthed the words 'Thank You' silently. I nodded and looked back at my lap, suddenly feeling cold fingers brushing my cheeks. Apparently more unwanted tears had managed to fall from my eyes, for now Nellie was using her hand to wipe them softly. "Oh, Mina…"

A kind tug of my hand made me turn me head toward her, realizing she was moving to the opposite side of her bed, motioning me to lie down next to her. I hesitantly did as she told me and laid my head on the pillow next to her, her arms locking me up in a warm, motherly embrace. I sighed and settled beside her. Only a few minutes must have passed by before I fell soundly asleep.

* * *

"What the hell is happening here?"

I squinted confusedly before opening my eyes completely, snapping my head up as I recognized the gruff voice coming from the doorway. I lifted myself on one elbow and opened my mouth to explain myself to an obviously upset Sweeney Todd. However, a sleepy groan stopped me from doing so. Both the barber and I looked down at the redheaded baker stretching herself between the sheets, yawning before finally sitting up. Both Todd and I stared at her, expecting her to speak. She sighed and looked from me to the barber standing feet away from her bed.

"Morning!" she smiled and reached for her robe. "Oh my, 'tis been years since the last time I had a full day of sleep! With all my chores and whotnot. Oh well, y'know what they say. A day's rest's no big waste, eh?"

In the time it took her to speak she had managed to get out of bed, in and out of the bathroom fully dressed, and in front of her vanity's mirror to pin up her hair. She sighed again and turned, raising her eyebrows when she became aware of my and Todd's stare on her. "Whot?"

"What do you mean 'whot', woman? Did you hit your head when you fainted?" the barber snapped as he walked toward her and grabbed her arm, pulling Nellie to the bed. "You should be in bed, _healing_!"

"But, Mr T—"she was cut off by Todd's yelling once again, this time directed my way.

"And you! What in the world was going through your head when you decided it was safe to sleep inches away from a severely sick woman? Have you no common sense or it just disappeared with your memory?"

During his rant, the man had successfully made Nellie lay down and got me out of the bed, now grabbing me by the arm.

"Now Mr T, I asked Mina to lie down next to me. She was just in to check on me and, well…I felt kinda lonely." She pouted while straightening her dress, looking away from Todd's irritated face. I smiled at Nellie's cheery self; it seemed the hours of sleep had indeed served as therapy. The subtle blush that adorned her cheeks whenever she spoke to Todd was now more apparent.

"We both needed a little company." I spoke looking at her, my smile stretching further as she winked my way.

Todd, however, found no amusement in our display of emotion, for he just rolled his eyes with a growl before dragging me out of the room. He glanced at Nellie one last time before ordering "Sleep." And shut the door soundly behind him.

I shook him off my arm, earning a little shove toward my own chamber's way. I scowled at him, even when he pointed his finger at me with menacing eyes.

"Abstain yourself from doing another stupidity that might worsen things. Last thing I need is two feverish women lying useless in the house…"

With that he turned away and walked off, leaving me staring at his broad back angrily while rubbing my soon-to-be-bruised arm.

"And get dressed. You have a day of two's work ahead of you."

* * *

_Sorry this chapter sort of sucks… But I think Mrs Lovett's __tragic ending in the movie/play deserves a little amend. This chapter goes to Nellie, hoping her love story comes true in any other fanfiction… ;)_

_Reviews make my tummy fill with love! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter ****5** is heeere!

But first

**Pouka**** Lovett:** thanks for your feedback, sweetie!

**linalove:** Indeed, Mr T is tough, I think we gals prefer him that way!

**WishingOne:** thanks so much for reviewing! I'm glad to be the exception

Sorry for the lateness!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sweeney Todd. Damn it!

"That damned man. All he does is sit on his damned chair all damned day long only to come down the damned stairs and order me around as if I'm his damned maid."

The flight of stairs that led to Sweeney Todd's shop had never seemed that far away from the floor below. Nevertheless, as I made my way up to bring him his lunch after spending the entire morning managing to take care of Nellie's chores as well as mine, I found myself needing to stop and catch a breath before finally arriving to the barber's door. I knocked soundly before speaking with the cheeriest voice I could fake.

"Lunch, Mr T!" _Damned jerk_.

"Come in, Miss Thatcher." He spoke calmly, ignoring that the out-of-breath woman standing with a heavy tray outside his shop could use a little help to open the door.

"Of course." Carefully maneuvering with the tray in one of my knees, I opened the door and entered the shop with the most affronting glare I got after hours of practicing.

The barber was alone. _How weird._

I almost huffed in annoyance. His hand was held to his temple, making it impossible for him to look at my angry eyes and fall on his knees, begging for my forgiveness, promising to never be rude again. Well then, if he was not seeing my anger, he would most certainly hear it. I noisily strutted to the bureau, my boots clattering on the floor. For the final touch, I slammed the tray to the surface of the bureau, smirking at the sound of the porcelain dishes clash from the impact. I turned around, waiting for his reaction.

I frowned. The jerk had not even moved from his position. I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking of a way to catch his attention. My thoughts were interrupted by his rough voice.

"You know, Miss Thatcher, I'd think twice before doing anything stupid again." My eyes widened. So he did notice.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked nonchalant. He groaned.

"Mhh, forget it. How's Mrs Lovett?" My face softened considerably at the mention of the baker.

"Um, she says she feels better than yesterday, but I felt her forehead…She's hotter than last night. And she's not eating anything." I looked down at my hands while I spoke. Todd sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Foolish woman… She always thought to be bloody invincible." My eyes traveled from my hands to the floor, to the bureau and its surface, where a portrait displayed a woman and a baby girl, smiling coyly to the camera. His wife and child. I quietly reached for it and inspected it closely, studying the women's faces, imagining what it would be like to have a less moody Sweeney Todd as a father or husband.

I brushed the tips of my fingers against the glass protecting the photograph, gasping as a hand snatched it from my grasp. I froze as Todd took a moment to gaze at the picture before gently placing it back to its initial spot on the bureau. His eyes stayed on it even when he made to grab his cup of tea from the tray I had brought in, which by the way was behind me. His hand brushed against my sleeve while he reached for the tea, making me stand uncomfortably there, mere inches away from him.

"They're beautiful…" I whispered the words with my head turned toward the picture frame, uncertain of his reaction.

"Yes, they were." There was a distinct softness in his voice, so uncommon from the barber, that made me glance at him. I faltered when he stared back at me, my eyes drifting downward, to his chest. After studying him I noticed a particular detail.

"There's a button missing in your vest." He frowned and looked down at himself, raising his eyebrows as he did so.

"Indeed." We both moved and walked around looking at the floor, searching for the button. After two minutes or so, Todd bent down and arose with a smug Ha!; button in his hand. I walked toward him and took it as he took his vest off for me to mend it.

"There's a needle and thread in the drawer beside the bed." I frowned at his directions.

"You want it now?" He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"When then, if not now?" His eyes sparkled with a subtle threat. I scowled and made my way to the nightstand, where I effectively found what I needed to mend his godforsaken vest. I then looked around before walking toward the bed's foot.

"Do you mind?" I feigned politeness toward the barber, waiting for his permission before sitting in his bed. He bowed with his head, feigning in return.

"Please make yourself at ease." I sat and he followed, doing so in his barber chair, across me.

I sighed and began my work, unaware of his curious eyes on my hands. After a while I began humming to myself, more absorbed in my task than conscious of any event beyond my hands and Todd's vest.

"What are you humming?" his question made my eyes look up for a moment, distracted. I blinked and returned my attention to his vest, blushing.

"Um…it's just an old folk song my mother used to sing…"

"Your mother? You remember her?" There was a tone of incredulity in his voice, as if he doubted I remembered anything before the day I came to the shop. Or maybe he sensed the contrary. There had been occasions in which I said something involving my previous life, where he merely narrowed his eyes as if accusing me of faking amnesia to make my way inside the shop and, eventually, his life. I chose to ignore which of the two he thought right now.

"Some things… I remember her singing that song while lulling me to sleep… I remember what her perfume smelled like… I remember her laugh… I can even remember what some of the meals she made tasted like… But I can't remember what she looked like."

I had stopped my work on the garment and now sat staring at space, searching in my head for some reminder of my mother's appearance.

"Do you miss her?" the barber surprised me. He never seemed to have interest for anything outside his world of revenge and memories of his previous life. Then again, since memories were such a vital part of his existence, I guess he wondered how I could carry on with life with none whatsoever.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, resuming my work with the needle.

"I…do. Even so, I can't say I feel sorrow or… distress. I have a new life now, so I must live it." I nodded my head in order to convince myself of my words, being confident of my new position in life. "In a way, I'd say it is a good thing I don't remember much about my past."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? How so?"

"Dwelling on what could have been is never any good." I lifted my eyes to meet his. After widening for a second, his dark orbs turned somber. I could tell there was a long way for him to come to terms with _his_ new life. He stood from his chair and sauntered to his window, arms behind his back.

"I guess it must be simple for a young girl who knows nothing about life to say so." He spoke defiantly, eyes beyond the dirty glass.

I stood from my spot, having finished with his vest, and walked tentatively toward him.

"I guess it must be difficult for a grown man to accept any reasoning from a _young girl_." I stopped behind him. "Even when he knows she might not be entirely mistaken."

He tensed and turned around, his eyes hard on my face. I extended my arm. "Here's your vest."

He reached for it after staring at me for a moment. However, when he actually took it, his hand lingered on my wrist, gently keeping me from pulling back. I looked into his eyes for some explanation to the gesture. He studied my face intently. "Why are you still here?"

I knew for a fact he was not referring to my presence in his room, but my staying in the pie shop, with a gravely sick woman, to whom I was not related in any way and who now depended on me to perform the simplest of tasks for her; and a tempestuous man, whose actions fleeted unexplainably by any slight aggravation and could very easily kill me in the heat of the moment.

It took me a moment to answer, "I am not sure. But between being here and anywhere out there," I motioned to the sight of London outside the barber shop's window, "…I'd rather be here."

His eyes went to the floor while he let go of my wrist and shrugged on his vest. While he buttoned up, he spoke again, this time in a soft voice. "Maybe you shouldn't…"

"And why not?"

"You should know by now."

"But Mr T, you said it yourself. I know nothing of life…" A petite smile approached my lips and he glanced at me sideways, slightly amused.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by someone storming through the door.

"Mr Todd, sir!" A young man busted into the room, his long light hair all over his face, searching frantically for Todd. He spotted him and then saw me. Clearing his throat, he bowed his head "Ma'am."

I scoffed insulted. _Ma'am?_

"What is it, Anthony?" Todd seemed actually interested in what the lad had to say. I raised my eyebrows and looked back at the guy expectantly. However, my interest was crushed by Mr Todd's orders. "Miss Thatcher, go check on Mrs Lovett. I have to speak with Anthony in private."

I stared from the lad to the barber and back. I then made my way out of the shop, and lingered outside, at the top of the stairs. What could have happened? I sighed and made my way downstairs, hoping Nellie would at least be awake so we could chat a little.

_Do __forgive the crappy ending…next chapter is almost out of the oven, so…I hope it evens it out ;D_

_Please Reviewww! Writing is so much enjoyable when you have an idea of the others' perspective. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter ****6. **Oh yes indeed.

**Thanks to ****my reviewers! Your words are love to me :D**

**Disclaimer: **No, no, no. I do not own Sweeney Todd.

* * *

When I'd gotten inside the shop and right outside her bedroom's door, a loud slam made me look upwards. I gasped and entered Nellie's room to find her staring at the ceiling as well. I was about to ask her what she thought it was, but stopped when the slam was followed by a series of hurried steps descending the stairs. I frowned. I was almost certain Mr Todd had never run down the stairs, not even in one of his moodiest tantrums. Then I remembered the boy. "Must've been Anthony…"

Nellie, who had sat up when she heard the series of noises, snapped her head toward me. "The sailor…?" I nodded and she turned her head once again, the glint in her eyes temporarily brightening. The smallest trace of mischief crossed her dark eyes and a sly grin appeared on her lips as we listened to another, much more distinct and familiar, series of strong footsteps down the stairs. In less than a minute, Sweeney Todd appeared on the baker's doorway.

The barber's eyes were positively wild, traveling everywhere (including me) before finally settling on the redhead on the bed. "I got him."

I turned perplexed, expecting to find Nellie staring at him from the bed. Instead, she was on her feet, adjusting her robe while approaching him with wide eyes. She gently reached for his shoulders with her dainty hands, "Easy now, luv. Don't rush yourself. Whot'd just happen?"

Todd began pacing, staring at the floor, as if trying to process what he had just discussed with the young sailor. "Anthony…he's taking Johanna out of that madhouse he's locked her in."

Both Nellie and I gasped. Too absorbed in his thoughts to roll his eyes at our reaction, he continued.

"I'll persuade Turpin to come. Tell him I've made her realize her fault in denying his offer to marry him, I will… That she's here, waiting for him… And when he comes over…" he flicked his razor open and slashed fiercely through the air, making the baker and I jump startled.

A twisted smirk appeared in his face as he squared his shoulders, neatly shutting the razor and slipping it inside its holster without another word. After a moment or two, his gaze found us, grabbing each other's hands in slight panic at his behavior. He scowled, "What?", speaking gruffly as his usual self.

Nellie let go of my hands. "But Mr T…How d'you plan to get Turpin here in the first place?" She stared innocently into his dark orbs, hope and support and love all over hers.

"I'll send him a note. Just have to take a penny out of my pocket and I'll have a bunch of lads knocking each other down in order to deliver my message in exchange." He spoke smugly, having for once sorted all out.

"I can do it for you." Both Todd and Nellie turned sharply and stared at me as if I'd grown a second head. "…I wouldn't charge a penny."

The barber kept his baffled expression while the baker softly padded her way toward me. "Mina luv, I think it best for us to stay down here while Mr T gets this mess all sorted out," she turned his way, "don't you, my dear?"

Todd merely glanced at us and gave a stiff nod while running his hand through his wild mane of hair. She smiled sweetly.

"See? Now come sit with me, darling. I'll need one of your stories to pass time till Mr T's done for the evening."

The redhead led me to her bed with her hands on my arms, and I didn't miss the discrete wink she sent Sweeney Todd before he exited the room and went up, to prepare himself for his battle.

I sat beside Nellie on her bed, making sure she was completely covered with the mass of quilts and sheets over the mattress before starting to look in my head for a silly plot intriguing enough for her to remain lying down as long as possible. While Nellie had always entertained me with her cheery prattle about anything and nothing in particular, she seemed to have grown fond of my story-telling abilities. Though I could not remember when or to whom I'd once told any tale, somehow I found myself being able to recount many stories I did remember quite naturally, the words rolling out of my lips as fluent as a river. It made me happy to think this was a way I could help Nellie when the fever took the best of her, leaving her lying weakly and barely letting her eyes open. She particularly took pleasure in listening to tragic and betraying romances.

As I was about to finish with my story about a young heiress and her unachieved romance with her lifelong love interest –a chaotic detective 23 years older than her and with no interest whatsoever in the girl— the slow, regular rhythm of the baker's breathing indicated me she had fallen asleep. I glanced upward, unsure of what was happening inside the demon barber's shop. Throughout the last couple of hours we'd occasionally heard some noises that called our attention, but we simply eyed each other before choosing to ignore them and go on with the tale.

I winced when I heard the door of the shop being slammed shut, and couldn't help but wonder what was to happen with Mr Todd after tonight. Once he got his revenge over with, what was he to do? Would he run away in case any enforcer of the law came to find him, or would he rather stay were he was now, a gloom room in which the only light that entered came from the blurred memories of what he once had? Whichever his choice, he would once again be forced to confront a new way to live his life, or what was left of it. I thought of the possibility of carrying on with his life, maybe even go live somewhere completely different from London. Perhaps by the sea, like Nellie had always wanted to. Another astounding doubt made my heart leap. In case any of the aforementioned did happen, where was I left, anyway? With Nellie's sickness showing no sign of improvement, Mr Todd and I had practically learned to live in silent resignation, mentally adjusting ourselves to the probably inevitable future.

Hard as I tried, I could not believe Sweeney Todd would be concerned about what would be of me after Nellie Lovett was no longer around. For all I knew he could very well throw me out and rent the pie shop bellow his room. I sighed and prayed quietly until exhaustion took the best of me, making me fall into a deep slumber for the rest of the night.

………………………

Next morning I woke to the feeling of a very cold form beside me, even under the dozens of quilts over the bed. I frowned when I realized I was trembling, reaching to touch Nellie's head to check her temperature. I froze as my fingertips came in contact with her cold forehead. Trembling harder, I moved my hand to her neck, trying to feel her pulse.

Nothing.

Gulping, I pulled back. I sat there in silence, numbly staring at the lifeless woman lying peacefully with an almost-smile adorning her countenance. My face completely straight, I got out of the bed and headed to the door, not once glancing back at the baker's body. Oblivious of my path, I eventually found myself in the middle of the pie shop, staring at the man sitting in one of the booths. Not even his blood-soaked clothing managed to alter my poker face.

He was staring at the table in front of him, his eyes lost. I doubted he even became aware of my presence. Without a word, I walked towards the booth and took a seat across him. Only then he felt my presence, for his gaze bolted up and found me. Neither of us spoke for a moment, as if we were trying to read what the other had to say through their eyes. It was I who spoke first, but only after lowering my eyes. "She's dead."

I saw him give an almost imperceptible nod out of the corner of my eye. "So is he." He whispered more to himself than to me.

I glanced back at him and inspected the blood on his shirt, which was now dry, darkening the fabric. "How long have you been sitting here?"

He shrugged. "Couple of hours. I came after I finished in the bake house."

I frowned. "The bake house?"

Averting his eyes, he nodded stiffly. "I used the oven for…the bodies…"

It was my turn to nod with comprehension. After that we sat in silence for another chunk of time. Then, out of the blue, a question not even I was aware of escaped my lips. "What will happen now?"

The question startled both, but he maintained his eyes locked to mine. He opened his mouth and closed it for a couple of times before finally shutting it, raising his eyebrows. If it had not been such a miserable moment I might've even laughed.

"I must leave." His words felt like a bucket of cement being dropped in my gut. Of course this would happen eventually. I never expected him to think otherwise. The sad thing was whenever I had contemplated this happening, which had been quite often lately, I had not once thought of what to do next, all by myself. I had come to accept the fact I'd end up alone, and yet I consciously lived in denial. "Don't bring any rubbish along. You'll carry your own belongings." My head snapped up and I stared speechless at him as he got up from his seat and walked towards the parlor.

Only after he got out of my view I closed my gaping mouth at him completely dumbstruck. I shot up and followed his way, realizing he was now entering Nellie's bedroom. I stopped in my tracks and stood unsure if I should once again enter the chamber. Before further thought on my behalf, the barber reentered the parlor with a lifeless Nellie in his arms. My eyes widened, if it was due to the shock of seeing her corpse again or Sweeney Todd performing a particularly out of character gesture, I didn't know.

"What are you doing with her?" My voice shook with a mixture of anguish, fear and tears.

Todd did not respond. He merely looked at me and headed to the door that led to the bake house from inside the shop. He was going to get rid of her body the same way he had with the rest of the corpses that night. I gasped and hurried after him before grabbing his shoulder to try and impede him from going downstairs, with no avail.

"Mr Todd, please don't. She deserves proper sepulture!" He stopped mid-staircase and swirled around to glare at where I stood in the door's threshold.

"I will not get out from this place with more than one annoying woman. Either she stays in here, or you do." And with that he continued descending the dark stairs until he disappeared. I remained glued to my spot while trying very hard to block any sound from the room bellow. The creak caused by the oven's door made me wince and I turned around with my back still facing the path to the sinister baking house. A hand touched my back and I jumped. I glanced over my shoulder and found Sweeney Todd's stoic face.

I moved out of the way and he silently walked past me, heavy strides filling the parlor's muteness while he rummaged through cabinets, shelves, and drawers. He suddenly spoke off-handedly, "If I were you I'd made a good use of your time left here, which is short, instead of standing there unproductively."

Not bothering to ask any of the questions floating around in my still numb mind, I made me way to the room I'd slept in for the past months to change into clean clothes and retrieve the things I could need wherever Todd took us next. After careful consideration of what may come across as 'rubbish' to not bring it along and taking into account the relatively short period of time I'd been here, I ended packing a small bag and returned to the parlor, where much to my surprise Todd was not anymore.

Before panic had the chance to start rising up my throat, the sound of steady footsteps announced the barber's presence and in an instant he was in the room again, this time wearing a clean set of clothes and a washed face. He looked up from tying his cravat and inspected me and my petite luggage. "All set?"

I nodded and he did the same in response before going to lift up a set of cases and bags he'd apparently set on the couch in the middle of the room. I frowned.

"How far do you intend to carry those?" I followed him out of the shop and my mouth opened in a comprehending 'oh' as I saw him setting the luggage inside a grim coach. He took my bag from my hands and set it along with the others.

Once we'd gotten in and the driver started off, I took the liberty of casting one last glance toward the now vacant establishment on Fleet Street. A sense of grief pulled at the bottom of my stomach, but I chose to ignore it and sighed before sitting back on my seat. Nonetheless, the knot in my gut tightened as I saw Sweeney Todd regarding the room above the pie shop with an intriguingly disheartening expression.

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_Argh…Hard chapter!! Please review!_

_Hope to update soon. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter ****7. **Sorry it took so long. Swamped with homework. Studying history is quite fun though, especially when imagining all our lovely demonic barbers and whatnot as common people of the 19th century. Btw, long chapter last time. I don't know whether to apologize for it being so lengthy of for the rest of them being quite…short—y.

**Thanks to ****my reviewers! I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please feel free to give any suggestions you may have! **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sweeney Todd. Oh, well, I'll settle with imagining an affair with Sherlock Holmes for now. (Have you seen it already? RDJ is hotness! in the flick.)

* * *

"What—?" I woke up dazed as I felt the coach halt. I turned my head and looked up to find Mr Todd intently reading his newspaper with a slight frown, probably due to being concentrated in his task. Apparently I'd laid my head on his shoulder when I dozed off. After muttering an apology he probably didn't hear—or care for, for that matter—I scooted over to the window in the compartment, wondering where we found ourselves now.

Lifting my gaze to the sky, I smiled when all I saw were clouds. The sun had never been my best friend. I quite enjoyed looking up without the necessity to squint. "Where—?"

"Birmingham. One of my regular clients recently mentioned a country house he owned here. He casually commented his desire to sublet it, and given the possibility of my long-drawn plan finally coming to completion…" He said all of this without taking his eyes off the paper in his hands. Apparently I was wrong. He _had_ thought about this before…

"Well, then…" I spoke for the sake of doing so. It had indeed been a long ride; most of it in absolute silence.

Before any further comment or thought was voiced, the door on the carriage opened and the driver's hand was proffered to me, signaling our arrival. I climbed out, carefully managing to step down while examining the place that would house both Sweeney Todd and me for the next indefinite amount of time…

It was quite nice, actually. The typical country house you heard of in stories and tales and romance gossip. Although the weather was a bit chilly and it looked like it was about to rain any moment from now, Birmingham would surely be a break after London's gloomy ambient.

* * *

"God, it's freezing outside!" I walked inside after barely managing to retrieve the sheets from the string I'd set them in to dry out hours ago, after finding them in the basement quite dusty and unappealing to sleep in and washing them thoroughly. I set the hamper with the bed sheets on the floor and proceeded to rid myself from the several shawls I'd put around me. Todd, who had been sitting in an armchair near the door that lead to the kitchen, his leg casually bent over his knee, glanced up from the book in his hand.

"Is it? Hmph, perhaps lighting the stove's in order." I watched as he fluently stood up and made to the kitchen, to light the stove so the house would somewhat warm up, without him noticing my agape mouth. I still found it hard to be around his more civilized self.

Two weeks after our arrival we had come to a comfortable atmosphere, willingly accompanying each other in the process of adaptation. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised by the seemingly renewed attitude of Todd. Somehow the new surroundings had managed to lighten up his mood, as if his ever lasting despair was left back in London with the rest of the miserable memories surrounding him. Now, there was a peculiar air of calmness around him, the air of he who has finally achieved his purpose in life.

Every now and then, he looked almost… happy.

Of course, these moments were spare and one had to look very carefully to catch the distinctive gleam in the corner of his eye, the crease of his lips twitch momentarily, or the swift steps he took while walking. Then again, one would hardly notice these things because no one watched him as closely as I did. In fact, I now found myself asking if these were actually there in the first place or were just fantasy-induced instants created by my brain in order to cease worrying about what would happen next.

Or maybe it was just the kind of thing people in love see in the object of their affection.

Whichever the case, life was finally looking up for Todd and me. Seemed weird, how life could look up for me taking into account I had no memory whatsoever about my previous life. Even so, it figured thinking was not really worth it now. There comes a time where we all need to learn to just be. No problems, no joys, no sickness, no family, no lover; just being. And for the time being, I was.

There were times, however, in which the strange pang pulled at my heart, and I would see Nellie's face in the window I stood in front of as I washed the dishes, or felt her doe eyes staring at me from the corner of the room while I made the bed. Some evenings, as Todd and I sat in front of the fire in a comfortable silence, each to his own task, I watched the flames flicker and for an instant I saw her winking at me. I cringed, shivering.

Whenever this happened, I chose to occupy my mind with something that kept her sad glance at bay. Every now and then, if the weather was favorable enough, I strolled down the street to the nearest church and sat there silently, quiet comfort spelling over me. After a while of inertly sitting there, I knelt and inwardly conversed with whoever heard me, speaking of Nellie and the people and me…and Todd.

Every time these little trips to the cathedral took place, I merely made sure he knew where I'd go. At times I casually commented on going and he would just nod or grunt in awareness, or he would ask me and I'd tell him. I never asked him to come; he never offered to. Neither of us said anything in order to keep the possibility of tension away.

However, it was he who thought of _it_ in the fist place. He was the one with the initiative for the event that would mark both our lives forever. It was he who brought up we should declare ourselves _together._

"We might as well do it", he said one afternoon, while tapering the wood in one of the cabinet doors for it to finally be able to be shut. His tone was casual, almost light, unaware of my incredulous staring. He had just mentioned we should be thinking of marrying in order to tone down the gossip that might float around if anyone knew a grown man lived only with a young woman he was not related to; a disaster waiting to happen. Especially with his plans of opening a brand new tonsorial parlor down the lane, being careful with people's comments was a must.

"We'll go to the cathedral," he started, grazing the top of the cabinet door with a piece of sandpaper, "speak to that priest you've apparently acquainted to," he grazed harder when he got to the corner, sharpening it, "and in an hour we'll be free of worry."

It seemed so simple. He managed to make it sound as if going for a stroll in the park, walking together through the markets. Perhaps Todd was taking this 'just letting it happen' format too seriously. "But he'll know we were not married before."

Todd paused and half-glanced at me through his shoulder, as if asking me to explain myself.

"Father McCourt. He'll know the reason behind. And he can't lie if anyone else asks. So maybe it's not worth it." At this he fully turned his head to look at me, eyebrows slightly raised.

"We'll ask for discretion." I looked down at my shoes. "Besides, he might even be relieved. Gossip out of the question, a man would have the duty to make sure a woman alone's taken care of. What more protection that making her his wife?"

There was no plausible answer to that in my mind. For a second I thought of Nellie, years after being widowed, still alone, even with a long-known man living just above her. I quickly pushed the thought aside, however.

"Alright, then," I placed my hands on my hips, "I guess I'll go by _Mrs Todd_ now."

He merely grunted in response and got back to work on polishing the cabinet door. After a moment, a thought suddenly hit me. I pursed my lips, unsure if being able to proceed. _Oh, damn it to hell._

I watched his broad back while he worked, concentrated in not leaving a single stray of coppice. Taking deliberate slow steps, I approached him from behind. "You know, Mr T…" I waited for his soft grunt in return, as if allowing me to continue. _This is going to be quite interesting. _"I cannot help but think 'tis weird, don't you? I mean, here I am, standing with the man to whom I will soon be bound to till death—and yet, I haven't even gotten a token of affection from him whatsoever."

He halted. A sly smile made itself roll out of my lips without my notice "Not even a tiny _kiss_."

Todd, who had not turned or talked once since the mention of father McCourt, limited himself to stand and wipe his hands on a cloth nearby. Afterwards, still in silence, he turned and leaned back on the counter with the cloth in his hands. His gaze slowly lifted from it to my face, and the look in his eyes almost made me falter in my little scheme.

Before I managed to speak, he made walked to me until his face hovered over mine, mere inches away. I had to look up to stare at his eyes from my position, for he was quite taller than me. As I did, his face leaned downward and for an instant I could sense the warmth of his lips lingering before mine… and then I felt him pressing them against my forehead with a soft smooch before he walked away and out of the kitchen, leaving me open-mouthed and flustered, having been shot with my own gun.

* * *

_Oh, jeez. I'm sorry it took me this long to write this crap. Please don't give up on me and keep reading, though! _

_Mina, or as how she'll be known from now on, __**Mrs Todd**__, would highly appreciate comments on her creator's skills while writing her—Plus, she'll be real grateful for some advice on her wedding theme. She's thorn between baby blue or lilac and the tailor really needs to know what color fabric to use for Mr T's tux. _

_Summarized: please review! :D your words are chocolate cake to me (oh! that's another pickle Mina's in: should the cake frosting be classic vanilla, or buttered almond? Perhaps just plain butter cream? Mmmm, tricky, very tricky) _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter ****8. **I hope this makes up from my temporal hiatus while writing the last chapter, even if it's a little short. Let me know what you think!

_**BTW**__**,**_ there is a tiny thing of a love scene in this, or at least an allusion to one. I wish I were able to write more…explicitly, but even my liberal self in paper only goes so far.

**Special Thanks to: linalove**** and me-loves-demon-barber. This goes to you, loves!**

**Disclaimer: **Umm, no. I still don't own Sweeney Todd.

* * *

One month. Well, one month and three days it took from the day we got married for him to turn and look into his past. Once again.

It had all been peace and uneventful living since the day we got out from the house as separate individuals and then came back as husband and wife. _The Todds._ There was no particular sign or giveaway that the relationship between us had changed anyway since we got married. We still limited ourselves to live in company of the other, not exactly _with_ each other. It was a very chaste marriage, what we had now. There were no kisses, pet names beyond the usual _dear, pet, hun, love, _and we certainly slept in separate rooms_._ Even in our 'honeymoon', if that's what you'd call it. I remember that night vividly.

We'd just gotten back from the cathedral, and as I entered the door to our little home (no bridal style carrying me inside) I still could not tear my eyes from the discrete gold band around my finger. I heard a faint thud on the coffee table (probably caused by Todd chucking my flower bouquet toward it) and stood there, in the middle of the room with my back to him. There was no reason whatsoever to be nervous, yet my heart had somehow accelerated its usually calm beats. I became aware of my own breathing and, self-consciously, took a hand to the back of my neck, slightly turning around.

I saw him looking up from his jacket, which he'd promptly taken off (my breathing speeding) into my eyes with the most curious expression I'd seen on him. Swiftly, he walked to me and fought the smile that so wanted to creep on his lips. He gently placed his fingers on the place behind my head I'd recently put my hand in.

"Goodnight then, Mrs Todd." And closed his eyes and bent and kissed me on the lips. It wasn't a husband's kiss to his wife. It was a caring gesture toward someone you just agreed to spend the rest of your rather boring and quite pointless life with. I still blushed and watched him head to his room. I then went into mine, and laid in bed with no loving arms around me in my own wedding night.

Even so, every now and then when we went out to do our errands, in the eye of society, these acts of the slightest affection took place. For instance, there was the hand on the small of my back as he guided me inside some shop, or the way I obliviously linked my arm with his while walking among the crowd, or the way we would smile at each other (acting, mind you) when someone complimented on what an adorable sight were we as a couple. It was very much like what went on with married people who held no love for each other, we might seem perfect for the world outside, but once we reached home and shut the door, each went to his own room. Except, here there was no resentment or hatred; and there was at least one of us who held love for the other…

It had all been peace, but _that_ day seemed to break the routine.

* * *

It began with my husband not responding when I'd repeatedly called for him to come and have dinner. And so I went to snatch him, thinking he'd probably be absorbed in one of his old books or just staring outside the window (stare, I'll have you know, not _brood_).

"Todd?" I still had not managed to call him Sweeney. To me it just sounded foolish, especially when referring to a vengeful serial killer barber.

He sat on the edge of his bed, slightly hunched over, and appeared to inspect an object in his hands. Upon closer look, I gasped. It was the old portrait of his deceased family. His beautiful women. No wonder I had not gotten a response.

"Husband." I walked over and carefully laid my hand on his shoulder. He apparently snapped out of his trance and stared at me with wide eyes. His expression was so uncharacteristically angelic I had to graze his cheek with my fingers. "You alright?"

He blinked and cleared his throat before responding. "Yes. I… searched for the case that had my razors in my old box of belongings and then…" He looked once again at the picture and his voice softened all the more. "…I found this."

I sighed and sat beside him, wrapping my arms around him sideways. He wasn't an affectionate man, but he did not appear to reject my own affections every now and then. Of course, they never consisted on more than an embrace or a chaste kiss.

"It's fine…" I rubbed his arm and accommodated my head on his shoulder. He nodded and muttered a breaking 'I know'.

"How about a nice meal? Your wife spent most of her time past noon preparing a banquet that includes carrots, mashed potatoes and fish for you to pretend to like while making polite conversation over cheap wine. Sound appealing?"

A familiar thin smile graced his lips and it was moments like this when I felt all I'd done in the past was worth it.

* * *

Although my skill in the kitchen was not that trustworthy, we ended having a nice dinner, with polite conversation and even low, occasional chuckles. Even the cheap wine seemed to add color to the evening.

"Lovely dinner indeed, wife."

"I appreciate your kindness, spouse."

We laughed lightly. Maybe I'd underestimated the cheap wine. I bid Todd goodnight after telling him I'd do a quick tidying up on the kitchen, making my way to it with our used dishes.

However, as I was wiping the counter next to the sink with a cloth the distinctive feeling of being watched made me turn my head. Indeed, in the doorway stood Sweeney Todd, lying leisurely against the frame. His expression stoic, he watched me with the slightest gleam in his eye.

I wriggled the cloth I had in my hands while lying myself against the counter. "How long have you been standing there?"

He did not respond, and with three swift strides he stood in front of me. I raised my eyebrows as I looked up to him. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His voice was strangely soft; it had an edge to it I'd never heard before. Suddenly I felt his hand travel from the side of my face to the nape of my neck and what really scares me is I never felt him touch my face in the first place but now his hand is moving lower and I'm really nervous this time because he's clearly had too much to drink and oh God I hope neither of us regrets this in the morning because he is leaning into me and I can feel his hot breath on my face and…

His lips were so much softer than they'd ever been whenever I kissed him goodnight before. This was all very different. _This _was what husband and wife were supposed to kiss like.

It was not until I realized he had carried me all the way to his room and laid me on his bed that I comprehended my wedding night had taken one month and three days to happen. A thought hit me. All of a sudden I felt in need to clarify something. I cleared my throat, hoping to distract him from his current task of marking my shoulder.

"I, uh… I don't know what to do." I could not look into his eyes while I said this but I could feel his gaze burning into me. I did nevertheless feel his hand cup my cheek as an invitation.

"Do not worry, my love." I dared to look up and found the gentlest smile playing upon his features. "After all…it is your wedding night."

I felt a lean hand hiking its way up my leg and shivered.

* * *

……

_Yikes!__ Did I royally screw up? _

_Please review and let me know what' sin your mind!!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter ****9. **So catching up, Mina was a virginal-virgin even over a month after her wedding night! Is that Victorian-style fiction or what? Anyway, away we go. Hope you like this piece!

**Special Thanks to linalove**** and me-loves-demon-barber. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sweeney Todd. This is getting tiresome.

* * *

It must have been the very early dawn when I woke trembling. I frowned, wondering why I would be so cold if my heavy comforter generally warmed me well enough. I reached for it but my hand only found a thin sheet instead. I continued searching for it around me until I felt my hand collide with a body, which emitted a heavy grunt at the contact. Gasping, I sat up in a millisecond.

Beside me, on what I now became aware was _his_ bed, Todd slept heavily. So that was why I felt so cold. My comforter rested untouched in my own room, while I laid here clad with a thin sheet to cover me, and _nothing_ underneath it. I frowned again and turned toward Todd's form again, absorbing his peaceful appearance. Without warning, images from the previous evening came rushing toward me.

His skilled hands helping me out of my dress, traveling all over my body, caressing my face while his eyes remained glued to mine as he moved inside me. His voice, rough and low, coated with care and affection and pleasure and desire as he whispered to me. My name coming out of his lips in what sounded like worship… _Mina_

It was without a doubt the most wonderfully spiritual experience I had had in all my life. Never had I thought one could get such extraordinary closeness to another being, giving and receiving so much, even with nothing but your own body and soul to offer. How amazing it was the way we were made; two people, in order to become one and live completeness for a brief moment that seemed to last an eternity enveloped in care, bliss, lust, and…

Oh. Sweet. Holy. Jesus. I had actually had sex with my husband just one month after our wedding day. Wait. How lame did that just sound? Dwelling with the matter was useless anyways, since the man in question was now stirring beside me. I nervously laid down again, my hands still clutching the linen to my chest.

I mutedly watched as the barber roused with a muffled grunt, rubbed his hand against his face, and turned sideways to look at me. I suddenly felt the urge to run my hand through his raven disheveled hair. "Morning" was all I said.

Wordlessly, he prompted himself up on one elbow and leaned down to press his lips against mine while he cupped my cheek with his hand. We broke apart after a few seconds, his thumb grazing over my cheekbone, eyes gentle with the slightest hint of question. "You don't regret it?"

My eyebrows rose in surprise, "What?"

He lifted himself from the bed and into a sitting position. "Last night." He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In reality, it was.

"No." Although I'd spoken without thinking, I realized it was the truth. Why would I regret sleeping with the man with whom I was in love _and_ married to? Anxiousness suddenly hit me. "Do you?"

He turned his head to look at me still lying in the bed, "Of course not. We are married, aren't we?"

For some reason his response did not make me feel completely at ease. I fidgeted with the blanket before realizing a small pout had formed on my lips. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" He quirked an eyebrow and once again moved to lean hovering over me, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I mean nothing had changed between us since we got married until last night. What the hell is up with that? You actually woke up yesterday thinking 'Hm, today seems a good day to bonk my wife!' or just acted under the influence of cheap wine and mashed potatoes?"

He looked down at me with an astonished expression for a moment before retrieving himself from the bed completely. An unexpected feeling of bareness invaded me in the now empty bed. It faded, however, when I saw his bare backside as he walked away.

Between my confused thoughts a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. If I'd known I'd have the chance to see _this_ one day, I'd smirk in anticipation every time the image presented itself in my little dirty mind corner.

"You'll go blind if you keep staring like that, you know."

The blush in my cheeks didn't stop me from getting out of bed and pad my way after him. "You can't deny a wife's privilege to claim what's hers, now can you, husband?"

He craned his head to look back at me from his shoulder, raised eyebrows contemplating my intended mischievous face. He didn't attempt to remove my arms from around his waist.

"I suppose…"

I grinned broadly and planted a kiss on his back while we walked out of the room completely bare, with me still latched to his back tightly.

……………………………

Life as man and wife—as _actual_ man and wife—turned out to be surprisingly similar to what we had before. Except this time there were, you know, _other benefits_ to gather from the relationship.

We still had mediocre meals made by me, we walked down the lane and separated once in the market to each gather his own required items, and he still sulked with the picture of his late family every now and then. The sulking became sparser as time went by, though.

Our sleeping arrangements varied from day to day. There were nights where I or he or both of us felt so exhausted we slept each in his own room, and others (the friskier ones) in which we still had energy to spend rolling around in the sheets. However, most evenings we settled for silent, meaningless late-night talks until we drifted off. Sometimes we cuddled.

…………………….

It wasn't until one particular evening that an interruption presented itself amongst our peaceful life.

"That'll show me not to use meat delivered by the butcher's wife." The past hour spent with my head hung over the toilet had provided me with great amount of time to develop theories as to how I had gotten sick in the first place. I had finally come up to the conclusion that the wife of the local butcher, a man well-past his fifties and in no shape to go along with the deliberate winks he sent at me every time I asked for the softest cut of meat, had purposely set things up to somehow sicken me to death or at least bound me to bed for a good while in order to make sure I recessed my 'advances' on the ghastly man. I'd had my encounters with the woman and found that she in no way seemed to comprehend my complete lack of interest in his husband, the jealous bitch she was.

"Don't be daft. We both ate the same thing."

"Yes, but I had an early start due to your inconsiderate lateness on your way back from work." I stared at him across the hallway and inside the washroom as he sat on bed, as calm and composed as always. "So I suggest you get a bucket of your own for when dinner assaults your gut later in the night. Maybe even put it beside you in bed."

"I'm fine. Are you coming anytime soon?" There was the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps even annoyance? I wanted to tell him how wrong it was of him to think he was strong enough to endure your stomach trying to hike its way up your throat and out of your mouth, but was promptly interrupted by what I thought was the last of my meal wanting out of my system.

After wiping myself with a cloth for the fifth time that evening, I decided it was time to finally give in. "I think it's wisest for me to stay close to my friend here." I affectionately tapped the toilet's border with my free hand while sighing in defeat.

"Alright then. Wake me if you need anything." What? His wife is retching her soul out and all he can do is excuse himself with a lame-ass offer to provide assistance only if needed?

"Jackass." It wasn't even intended for him to hear out loud, but he raised his eyebrows nonetheless. He stopped unbuttoning his shirt halfway there and made his way to where I was, lying in the bathroom's floor in a messed heap of sickness.

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be. Abandoning your wife in the middle of the night for her to slowly accomplish a painful and humiliating death while you snore the night out, safely tucked in, away from the claws of digestive death!" By the end of the rant my whining had transformed from that into whimpers and finally into shaking sobs.

Todd merely watched me cry with an astonished look in his face. Then, as if coming back from a trance, he knelt beside me and awkwardly tried to comfort, rubbing my back as I wept with my head resting over my folded arms on the top of the toilet.

"Shush now. You'll be alright, you just have to let it out your system and tomorrow it'll be in the past."

"That would be very well, wouldn't it? Pretend nothing ever happened and keep on acting as if I'm made of steel! Because your wife would be nothing but a useless nuisance if not able to deliver with her duties, would she? Better to not even fathom the possibility of sickness, for –God forbid—you'd have to at least pretend to be nice and tend for someone for once in your life, wouldn't you?"

Todd now sat in the opposite corner of the small room, looking as if he'd had a ghost announce him death. Apparently I'd over do it with my momentary outburst. Curious thing was, the nausea had suddenly disappeared. Instead, my insides were now fluttering with an unexpected anger, weird sadness and the slightest twinge of—dear God, appetite?

"Pet, what in Earth has gotten into you?"

"What the bleeding hell is that supposed to mean?" My words came out a little more hash that intended, I realized just after he scoffed in exasperation and stood to leave the room. "Wait, don't go!"

He paused halfway through the doorway and slowly turned his head to stare down ant me. God only knows how much of a mess I must have looked in that moment. "Don't leave me here."

I would have expected him to sigh and cross his arms while leaning on the threshold, but instead he stayed glued to his spot, eyeing me with a suspicious gaze. It was unnerving enough until I could bear no longer.

"What?"

He finally turned around and let his slightly open mouth close and open again, all the while looking intently at me with doubt, and something very similar to fear, in his eyes.

"Pet, what in Earth has gotten into _you_?" I mocked, but was curious enough nonetheless.

"Mina…" He knelt in front of me and took my hand in his. "You wouldn't by any chance be…_pregnant_, would you?"

I frowned incredulously at him, about to refute his accusation, but halted once I started counting mentally. Today was 11, so that would make it 26, 27, 28, 29…35…_42_…Oh. My. Sweet. Lord. _62 days_ since my last time of the month.

"_Oh bugger." _

* * *

_Dundundun!!_

_Mina's preggers! Yes she is. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ****10. **Double digits already!

**Special Thanks to linalove****, me-loves-demon-barber, and ****Detective Huckle. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sweeney Todd, unless his impregnating my character makes me own him someway…

* * *

"Shit!" he paced down the hallway and back again and again and I wondered if it was actually possible to make a hole in the ground from so much pacing. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Although his tone was loud and firm, his vocabulary had severely shortened somehow.

Most likely due to the new of my…pregnancy. Oh dear. If I weren't too shocked to stand from my place on the floor by the toilet I had my head in not an hour ago, I'd surely be pacing like mad too.

"What are we supposed to do now?" He exasperatedly slapped his arms to his sides, staring at me as if I had the answer and denied to give it to him.

"Don't look at me like that. How should I know?" He huffed and resumed his pacing. I stood from my spot and walked past him, into the bedroom and to the bed. "Hey, it's not like I did this by myself, _husband_!"

"Well, we've got to figure it out somehow. This…it…this shouldn't be happening…" he sighed as he dropped himself by the bed next to me, lying down with closed eyes and a furrowed brow.

As I looked down at my distressed husband and soon-to-be baby daddy, I couldn't help but wonder: was it that terrible to even consider have a child with me? I mean, the more I thought about it, the more I cared already for this baby. Being a mom was something I'd always wanted. Now, after disposing of the chance it occurred, I found out it _would_ happen after all. Problem was, he didn't look at it like that.

"Oh." I realized with a frown and —when had I started pouting so often?—this was going to be harder that expected. Before I reigned over my emotion, a sniff came out of my mouth, startling even to me.

"What is it?" he lifted himself and leaned on his knees to peek at my face, now covered by my hair as I tried to hide my face.

"You…" sniff "don't…" sniff "want…" sniff sob sniff "your baby!" and I broke off sobbing.

"Jesus." Even with my scrunched eyes and swollen face, I could tell he rolled his eyes before putting an arm around me in comfort. Well, intended comfort. I, however, had learned to read him like a book, and so waited no longer to swat him away viciously.

"Don't patronize me! Selfish idiot." After holding his hands up in defeat he sighed, once again, and returned to leaning on his knees with defeat all over him.

"It's not I don't…want it. It just…" There was a silence, even my sobbing pausing in wait for his answer. "It complicates things."

"Complicates things? What the hell is so bad about having a baby? It's not as if we're short of money, space, time…for God's sakes it even would brighten my day! All day by myself in this place, you gone to work in the fanciest barber shop in the district, no one other than the sissy neighbor wives who prattle my head off with downright nonsense every time I see them… I could do with some company and all…"

He kept his gaze downward, his elbows on his knees and hands knotted together making him look like a statue. In an effort to lighten the mood, I gently removed one of his entwined hands and held it between both of mine. "Come on, Mr Todd…"

Sighing, he took his hand away only to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me to him, his lovely musky scent invading me.

"We'll move your things into this room; make space in yours for a crib."

Out of the blue I had the inevitable urge to squeal like a hormonal teenager. I did and threw my arms around him, tackling him onto the mattress.

"I promise," a kiss to the tip of his nose, "things will only get better with this." And with that I worked on kissing every inch of his face, perhaps as a way or reassurance. However, and he must have had a premonition, now I think it only served as further evidence of the upcoming dangerous mood swings.

……………………….

_Some months later…._

As soon as I heard the door open, I threw my knitting off my lap and jumped off the chair I was in.

"You're home!" I latched myself to Todd like there was no tomorrow, squeezing the hell out of him. He barely managed to breathe and when he spoke his words sounded strangled.

"As every other day of the week…" he managed to pry my arms off him—gently, mind you—and led me to where I'd been sitting before his arrival, making me resume my task.

"Yes, but today I particularly missed you."

"Really?" Even if I'd seen the roll of his eyes I'd probably still keep greeting him like I did everyday since the pregnancy was acknowledged. No matter my task at hand, it'd come to a halt for me to spring into his arms before he could entirely come into the house.

"You brought me my chocolate?"

He pulled out a paper bag from the inside of his jacket and I'm pretty sure my eyes went wide with adoring anticipation. Fast as lightning I snatched it from him and returned to my knitting chair. I wasn't oblivious to the measuring stare he gave me as he sat on the settee across me in the living room.

"It might be a good idea to slow down on the sweets…remember what the doctor said last time? You should eat more fruit when the sugar cravings come around instead."

"_Oh_ the doctor! As far as I'm concerned, he can take the juiciest fruit of the season and shove it right up his own—"

"Mina!"

"Well I'm sorry for wanting to compensate a day's worth of heavy work carrying _your_ child with a small piece of chocolate. _Dark_ chocolate for that matter. Less sugar than the milky one."

"The problem, my dear, relies not on the fact you have a piece every day. It comes to the size of that daily intake. If you keep on like this, you'll no doubt be able to nurse the child with chocolate milk!"

"And exactly what would be so wrong with that?" Everyone knows just how ridiculous one looks with a smug expression even after all evidence proves you wrong, but in my case, I still couldn't stop relishing in counter attacking his justifications for retrieving my chocolate.

"Well, for starters, the child is more likely to become portly before he's able to _stand_ _on his feet_."

The smug expression soon fled and was replaced by one of the famous hurt-looking pouts women display upon being subtly insulted. "Oh, is that it then?"

Unfortunately for men, their reasoning capacities are too slow to process the fact they have offended the fairer sex without their notice. Todd was not the exception. "Pardon me?"

"You deny me chocolate as a measure to prevent me from getting larger than how I am now, aren't you? I bet that quack doctor is not even as worried as you claim him to be."

"Mina…"

"No. Why don't you just admit it? God knows you're already sick of your ordinary-looking wife, what makes you think you won't feel worse when if on top she looks like a cow?"

"_Mina_…"

"Enough! You know what—I don't even want the stupid chocolate anymore. I've inexplicably lost my appetite." I threw the bag at him with what I thought was all the strength I possessed, making it land a few feet in front of him, on the coffee table.

Sighing, he stood up, bent down to pick the paper bag from the table and walked to where I sat grudgingly, kneeling before me. With a gentleness close to never displayed by him, he reached out and tucked a strand of my tousled hair behind my ear. "Wife."

His beautiful voice was so soft at that precise moment I automatically forgave him for any silly reason he'd gotten me upset with. He didn't need to know that though.

"You know my past, my present, and if I asked you my future I'm sure you'd get it right. When I speak of your nutritional necessities, rest assured I do so only in welfare of your—and our baby's—health. No matter how keen you are on finding excuses to think so, I could not possibly live without you in any other lifetime."

I blinked back anguish tears while he stroked my cheek. "Even if I had another chin and a bottom the size of one of Mrs. Robinson's prize-winning pumpkins?"

He gave one of his throaty chuckles, "Even with another chin and a bottom the size of a renamed pumpkin."

"And thighs like two oak trunks and a moustache?"

"Trunks and whiskers included."

"And a horribly hooked nose and green spots on my skin and hips like—"

"Alright then, I think you understood nicely. Let's dine now."

"Can I still have a teensy piece of my chocolate afterwards?"

"Of course you can. With one condition."

"Which is?" His smile turned impossibly devilish as he turned my way.

"You'll have to share with me."

* * *

_So…kind of lame-ass little update. Sorry! I felt like crap for keeping people waiting for an update for so long. _

_I'm really thinking on how to work this out, but rest assured I ain't goin' nowhere till I finish this story!_

_Thanks to my lovely reviewers!! I hope to know what you think!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter ****11. SORRY FOR UNFORGIVABLE LATENESS. **I know how it feels to want to know what goes on with a story but the stupid lazy author (aka. _me_) does not bloody update soon. But do not fret! I WILL finish this. SO HELP ME.

**Special Thanks to linalove****, me-loves-demon-barber, ****Detective Huckle,**** and**** Lexicon. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sweeney Todd, but I promise I'd share with all you guys if I did.

* * *

It must have been about three in the morning.

"Grrr…darn it" As much as both he and I hated when this happened, I could not help the need to awkwardly reach back for my husband and nudge him aimlessly till he woke up, clearly not very happy about the deed at all. Nevertheless, the pain in my lower back was too unbearable for me to sleep it off, and my belly being too large for me to roll over by myself, I had no choice but to disturb him. The pressure in my bladder only worsened things. "_Todd_…"

A muffled grumble announced his rouse from sleep, "I need to roll over…"

Another grumble, possibly forming a sentence along the lines of Bloody nine months, before I felt his slender hands cajoling me until I found myself fully turned, facing him.

Before I had the chance to say anything else I realized he was already back in dreamland. That is if he had any dreams at all. While I frequently felt him stir or saw his face change late at night, in the morning he always brushed the subject off, neglecting any images in his sleep even after I fervently gave him detailed narration of my own dreams, many times made up just to see if it could get me anywhere near his spear-protected mind.

To my disgrace, I soon remembered what I was about to tell him before drifting off.

"Todd…" He didn't move. "Husband…" Nothing but soft snoring filling the air. "Baby daddy?" Nothing.

"Ah, screw it." A sharp poke to his shoulder, then a choked gasp. "_Darling_? You still awake?"

"Mrrghh…I am now." I watched innocently as he sat up, wincing while rubbing his shoulder. "What is it?"

"I forgot to ask you something." I fiddled with the comforter, "a favor of sorts…"

"What?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Alright, give me your hand and I'll help you out of bed."

"…I'm afraid that won't do it."

"What do you mean?"

Silence.

"Mina?"

"I mean that you have to take me all the way there and wait till I'm finished to help me lift myself up from the damn toilet!"

There was a suspicious silence in the air before he finally chuckled and helped me out of the bed, into the bathroom and up from the toilet, patiently waiting for me all the time. As we were rearranging ourselves to sleep once the deed wad done, I suddenly realized the sounds I had been making through the entire journey from my bed to the toilet and back. I probably groaned like an arthritic woman the whole path, plus the huffing and sighing every time I sat and stood again.

It seemed this pregnancy had finally taken its toll on me.

Next thing I knew I was gasping for air as strangled sobs raked my body. Todd immediately sat up, looking uncharacteristically worried as I wept. "What's wrong?"

"I c-can't…stand it anymore!" I unsuccessfully tried to discretely wipe the tears on my eyes, gasping as an eerie sensation struck me all of a sudden. Could I be going insane? "This baby is messing with my mind! I can't move, I grunt every time I do so, and the back pains! The terribly persistent back pains! I don't think I'll be able to get up in the morning if I still feel as I do in this moment."

The soft words and gentle touch of comfort I expected from my husband were taking long to arrive. What is more, a few moments later I realized they were not coming at all. I turned to look at Todd with what was probably the most pathetical hurt expression in history of pregnancy crisis.

What I found in his eyes, though, held no sympathy whatsoever toward me.

He was actually glaring at me like a madman, and for just a second it took me way back when he used to flare at the slightest disturbance inside his tiny barber shop above the pie emporium. The days before he finally got even with faith. Now it seemed faith held something other than a supporting husband to me. As if on cue, the dense pressure I felt in my abdomen as I was ranting returned with a forceful plunge, knocking the air out of my lungs.

"…Why are you staring at me like that?" His silences were even more disturbing in the darkness. "…Todd?"

"I believe it's time you learn to Get. Yourself. Together. For your sake. For MY sake. And most of all, for the poor creature inside of you. I dread to imagine how it will turn out if his mother can't take a few months of pressure. God knows I have been able to!"

"I beg your pardon?" Pain. "Have you any idea—"More Pain. "what my body has been through in order to help your child grow?" Excruciating pain. "If God knows you've had it harsh, he must surely think _I _deserve a medal for the persistent sickness, unbearable exhaustion, and absolutely piercing, painful agony _you_ put me through!"

"_I put you through?_ What the hell are you talking about?! If anyone deserves a bloody medal it is _me_! Your state does not give you the right to deliver such nonsense! If anything, I have worked my backside off to make sure your way to the due date is as table as possible, so YOU CANNOT tell me _I_ put _you_ through piercing, painful agony!"

The whole experience, uncomfortable pain accompanied by a heavy brawl with my husband, was suddenly too much to stop blind rage from overwhelming me; causing words come out of my mouth without register.

"OH! Well I bet your sore backside you didn't say that to _her_."

His eyes flared and widened an inch before opening his mouth, preparing for the plunge.

And then it came.

Only it wasn't from his mouth. The irate rant did not fly out of his mouth to fill the darkened room with roaring anger and resentfulness loud enough to wake the neighbors. It almost did, but something replaced it.

And that something just happened to be the plopping sound followed by the rush of liquid running between my legs, into the bed sheets. Both Todd's eyes and mine followed the soft sound's provenience. Eerie silence followed. But not for long.

The scream I emitted was probably the ultimate play to wake the neighbors fully after the intense fighting they must've heard halfway through their sleep. It seemed our clash had somehow managed to keep my attention away from the fact I was now in labor. Painful as hell labor.

"Good. Lord. In Heaaaaaaaveeen!" I pushed myself back so my head landed on my pillow, and was barely aware of Todd running out of the room with his shirt halfway on, speaking along the lines of getting help.

I frantically fumbled with the covers in order to find something to latch on to, only to find Todd's hand would be the best way to go. The only problem was he was nowhere to be seen in the room. _Where the hell is he? Oh. Right. Getting help._

So I was alone. And in pain. In a dark room. With a baby on its way and no husband's hand to clutch. _I curse the day that damn pale man was born_.

* * *

_Yikess! I probably should mention I have no expertise on delivering babies__ whatsoever. At all. Like, none. So please forgive any incongruence with reality. _

_Promise to update soon. I'm actually on it AS WE SPEAK. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter ****12. **

Ok, while writing this I couldn't help but notice the kinda OCness. Forgive any wrongs I might've committed and enjoy the fluff!

**Special Thanks to linalove****, me-loves-demon-barber, ****Detective Huckle,**** and**** Lexicon. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sweeney Todd. To imagine the things I'd do to him if I did…

….

Nine hours and seventeen minutes later and by the hands of Mrs. Ruth Harrison, an elderly midwife who lived nearby and had previously offered her aid in delivering our baby, Miranda Jane Todd was welcome into the world.

Her nose was a tiny round bud amongst a pink, plump-cheeked face, topped with a little amount of thin dark hair, hands with long fingers closed into tiny fists, and big doe eyes that stared adoringly into space. She was the most adorable living being I had seen, and I fell in love with her even before she was placed in my arms.

The tears of sheer terror, utter frustration and unadorned pain felt since the wee hours of the day transformed into tears of pure undiluted wonderful bliss as my cries of pain ceased to be replaced by cries of life. The most melodic, breathtaking cries I have heard in my life. "She sure has powerful lungs", Mrs. Harrison had said.

She gently cleaned the baby—my baby, my _daughter_—before wrapping her in a soft blanket and handing her to me. Todd, who had been wiping my face soothingly during and after the whole ordeal, remained silent as our child was placed in my arms. But I knew his silence was no dire sign. In contrary, it spoke great volumes of utter adoration and shocking wonder toward the minute bundle cradled to me. I knew this simply because it was the same way I reacted toward my daughter as I held her to me for the first time.

"Hello, my love." My voice, although raspy and muffled by my continuous shrieks and cries, seemed to somehow sooth the crying baby girl. My heart swelled to a point where I thought it'd burst as she opened her eyes and stared blindly toward me, the place the sound had come from. "I'm your mother, angel."

Just then I saw a pale hand reach for her head and brush softly against the few hairs there. I turned my head to find Todd gazing intently at Miranda, lost in the reverie of irrevocable affection I'd suspected he'd find himself in.

"Would you like to hold your daughter, Mr Todd?" The expression on his face revealed he was stunned beyond words as he reached for the bundle of blankets I held.

I smiled at the sight of the once demon barber now holding a child in his arms.

Tears began to sting once again as I heard him practically _cooing _at our baby. "Hello there."

….

"Be careful!"

"What are you talking about? I am perfectly capable of doing this."

"Are you sure? I doubt that should look the way it does."

"Need I remind you I _have_ done this before? You on the other hand had no idea whatsoever of how to even hold a child three weeks ago."

I frowned in an attempt to be angry at my husband but failed miserably as the happy sounds of our baby made their way to my ears. I reached for her, frowning once again when Todd lifted her off the bed before my arms got the chance to do so. Despite my disappointment, Miranda seemed beyond pleased as her father held her, cooing every time he moved his arms making her jump up and down.

"You agree with me, don't you darling? You like it when your papa does your nappy, yes you do." He chuckled as the baby girl stared at him with her big doe eyes, holding her head perfectly still.

I had never believed when mothers bragged about how intelligent they said their children were. The idea of a child who's not even able to speak and yet is labeled a genius seemed altogether ludicrous to me.

However, just a few hours after she was born, we had discovered that Miranda was indeed a very smart baby. Even Mrs. Harrison, who had delivered her, complimented us for having "such an _advanced_ child". The way she followed our voices with her unseeing eyes, how she lifted her head from my shoulder the very first time I held her against me, the smiles she sent Todd when he changed her diaper(which she apparently preferred over me doing it); it all pointed to the fact we had been blessed with a rather gifted child indeed.

"What do you reckon she'll be when she grows up?", it was a beautiful breezy day and I couldn't help but wonder the question as I turned to Todd, seeing him in one of the rocking chairs we kept on the porch, Miranda sound asleep against his chest.

"Mmm", he gave it quite a bit of thought while glancing down at the baby, who every now and then twitched slightly in her sleep. "A barber."

I unconsciously let out a laugh loud enough to wake Miranda. Todd immediately turned around to shush me, and I had to resign to put a hand over my mouth to prevent me from waking her fully.

"I'm sorry", I said, still giggling at the thought. Miranda, well-grown by then, with a messy black mane of hair and scissors hanging from delicate fingers, much contrast against her father's strong, rough hands. Even so, I had to admit, they _did _look much alike now, with her delicate but still sharp bone structure and her little black mop of hair.

"You know what?", I mused reconsidering the facts at hand, "I think the profession might suit her well, after all."

I didn't miss the slight smug smile tugging at his lips.

….

_I'M SORRY. REALLY. BUT THE LAST MONTH HAS BEEN DISGUSTING, IDEK A BETTER WAY TO DESCRIBE IT. _

_ANYWAY, I believe next chapter will be my last hand-in for this work. It will be more of an Epilogue, it think. I promise I won't take long to submit it. _

_A GAZILLION THANKS FOR ALL THOSE WHO'VE BEEN YAKING TIME TO READ THIS! SERIOUSLY. _

_Love, _

_Niny_


	13. Epilogue

**LE FINALE**

**Special Thanks to ****everybody who read this****! And like the season finales of TV programming, this last piece is loooong, but it's worth it. I promise!**

**In case you find any, please ignore spelling mistakes. I assure you they're all unintentional. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sweeney Todd. I was really getting tired of saying that.

….

"Would you make it quick with the damn bag?"

My mind comes back from where it had wandered as I held the piece of clothing in my hands. I look at it once again—the nightgown I received as a gift from one of the neighbors the evening Miranda was born, with front buttons so as to nurse when the baby woke up in the middle of the night.

Seven years later, I realize the tattered gown is still the only thing I wear to bed, and nonetheless set it inside the bag I have yet to finish packing for our trip.

"I'm coming!"

It has been a long time since we last saw London. Even so, I have to admit the circumstances in which we left it were far from admirable at the time—hell, still, but the idea of returning to the place were my life took its sharpest turn was quite intriguing. There had been a matter with some papers of his new establishment that required Todd to travel to London to solve, so we decided the journey might as well serve as family holiday.

That is, I innocently decided it would be nice and Todd had grunted and refused until I had my way with him to prove him wrong in ways not so…innocent.

So now here I am, trying to make sure everything is packed not only for me, but also for both my husband and daughter. When I'm finally done, I carefully manage to carry the bag all the way from our bedroom to the threshold, where Todd sees me and swiftly takes it away from me muttering nonsense.

"Silly woman…shouldn't be carrying this much weight…"

"I had it perfectly handled! God, it's not as if I'm an invalid, Todd."

"You heard the doctor, Mina. No lifting any kind of heavy objects from now on."

"But it's barely my first trimester! It wasn't like this with Miranda."

"That was almost eight years ago, pet. Get in the cab."

"All right…Miranda Jane! Time to go!"

"No need to yell, momma, I'm right here!"

"Oh." I'd sworn I hadn't registered the black haired head that all of a sudden was looking at me expectantly from the back seat of the hansom cab. Since she learned to crawl Miranda developed a skill to hide in the most random places, leaving me dumbfounded each time I find her staring at me like I am an overreacting parent and nothing out of the ordinary really happened. "I hate it when she does that. Creeps me out", I whisper.

There are times I turn around from whatever task I have at hand and gasp, finding her just staring, her big doe eyes gazing intently at me. I now turn to Todd and mutter mirthfully while shoving him, "Well, we certainly know who she gets that from, don't we?"

"Her striking good looks? Yes, we do. Get in the cab." I frown and pout at him, but get inside the coach nonetheless and sit beside Miranda, who's intently reading her tale book until she sees me. She then swiftly moves over to me and embraces my middle, nuzzling my expanding belly and cooing nonsense in her chirpy little voice.

I smile "Are you reading your brother a fairy tale during the ride?"

"Not yet, his ears are still too small, momma!"

I chuckle and pat her back. We share the thought about the baby on its way being a boy; she because of her wish for a playmate who can handle rough tree-climbing and I because…well, a woman knows these things. Furthermore, I also know Miranda secretly hopes it's a boy so she can keep her title as Daddy's girl. Meanwhile, Daddy has his theory of the upcoming baby being a girl, simply because he is too stubborn on his supposed 'hunches' and of course the fact that he loves to challenge me.

In actuality, I believe (probably because I don't want to admit I know) he thinks it's a girl because he expects a woman for each he's lost in his past life. Me after Lucy… Miranda after Johanna… and now a new baby after Nellie Lovett. Perhaps he did have some kind of feelings for her in the end. Not in the way she wished for, but strong ones nonetheless.

Knowing this, it is plausible that my own intuition over the baby being a boy has developed solely out of fear of Todd's premonition being true. I guess only time will tell.

A moment later the devil himself gets in and sits opposite to me, handing me an apple. I raise a questioning eyebrow.

"You cannot travel with an empty stomach…specially after the rough draining it went through a few hours ago."

I groan. "Yes, thank you for reminding me of the pleasant experience. It has certainly aroused my appetite."

"Eat the apple, Mina."

After making another dissatisfied noise I do start biting the apple, chewing methodically while I gaze out the window. Just then I feel Miranda shift from beside me to take a seat beside her father, who has started to read his folded newspaper.

I watch as she hooks her little arm through his and opens her book once again, resuming her reading. Once they're both settled for the ride I have the chance to really look at them in a way I haven't been able to in a very long time.

Now I see how Todd was right earlier on; our daughter's resemblance to him is astonishing. Her complexion is as pale as his, a combination of Birmingham's cloudy weather and the time she spends inside reading her eyes out of every literary piece she finds. Her nose and lips are carved as delicately on her face as Todd's are on his, and if they had a competition to decide who had the most tangled messy black mane, I can't guess who'd win.

The only thing my daughter and I seem to have in common, now that I take closer inspection, is our eyes. Even so, hers have that special sparkle only sweet, beautiful, innocent little girls have, which makes her prettier than she is already. I wonder if I ever had my eyes sparkle that way and if so, at what age did the spark go away?

While in my reverie, my husband and daughter have found a fragment of they reading material disconcerting, or so it seems by the reaction sketched across their features. Now that they both sport a deep frown, they really look so alike that an undisguised giggle escapes my throat.

I'm rewarded with two quizzical pairs of eyes and I try to hide my amusement with no avail, so I just turn to look out the cab's window. Moments later I feel a wave of tiredness wash over me and I settle until I'm comfortable enough upon the seat, decided to make the ride to London the least rough possible. In a matter of seconds I feel myself drift off, the image of identical heads looking at their laps still burnt behind my eyelids.

Although I don't usually dream too vividly, this time one image is persistent all throughout my trance. I am looking down at my lap, where a small child lays in my arms. I know not the baby's gender, but the fiery red hair and big brown eyes make my stomach coil in the feeling that it's a girl, and her life on Earth might be more difficult and filled with tragedy that what is fair.

…

There's a light tap that seems to come from far away, only to get closer and closer until it's right on the side of my head; on the window. I blink and focus my eyes, turning to the noise's source. It turns out it's raining quite heavily, the droplets falling soundly against the coach's windows.

"Are we there yet?" I look at Todd, who's also gazing out the window while Miranda, laid across his lap, sleeps peacefully.

"Almost." He sounds tired. I notice he's running his hand gently through our daughter's hair, almost unconsciously. I smile. It's not everyday someone gets to watch Sweeney Todd being gentle at all. But then again, not everyone has the chance to observe him behind his cold exterior, in his father and husband role.

Just on cue the coach stops, and Todd maneuvers Miranda into his arms to carry her out the cab. I get out, assisted by the driver, and offer Todd help, but he refuses as he has ever since the doctor mentioned it was wise for me to stop doing heavy work.

I turn around and gasp. It has been over eight years since the last time I glanced at this place. Back then all I could think of was the future and what it might behold for me; now all that crosses my mind consists of flashes of the past and the series of events that turned my previous life in what it was supposed to be; what still is supposed to be.

Mrs. Lovett's Pie Emporium stands unmarred by the years and heavy gloom that characterizes London. And above it, the shop belonging to London's finest barber looks down on the street, its presence able to send chills down one's spine. After realizing the driver has collected all our bags and set them in front to the shop's door, I turn around and find Todd doing the same as I was a moment ago; his eyes dark and frowning upon his old establishment.

There's no fear, pain or anguish in his stare as he stands still holding our sleeping daughter in his arms; just plain inquisitiveness.

Right then and there Miranda stirs in Todd's embrace and squints until she can distinguish her surroundings, spotting the place her father's eyes are set on.

"Where are we?" she asks sleepily, still clinging to Todd with her head on his shoulder. Keeping his eyes glued to the quarters before him, he turns his head and kisses her on the forehead.

"Home."

…..

"I am not repeating myself, Miranda Jane Todd. You are not allowed to go down there. Do you understand?"

Reprehending my daughter is not something I enjoy doing, and even if I barely have the need to do so, her stubborn nature (mostly due to her genetic background, from both sides) makes it even harder.

"I understand," she keeps staring at the floor and I'm pretty sure she's about to burn a hole through it any minute now, "but I don't know why."

I roll my eyes. Something I usually do when brawling with my daughter. Or my husband. It has become quite a defense mechanism when coping with people as obstinate as me. "We've gone through this, tot. That old bake house has been unoccupied for years and it's connected to the sewage! God knows what ghastly things you'd find down there."

"Daddy went."

"Yes, and what did he say when he came back?"

She turns her gaze to the side of the room and sighs, defeated. "That we shouldn't wander there because of all the grimy, scary things and bugs we would find."

"Exactly", I say but it sounds as if someone else has chosen the exact same moment to say the exact same thing. I look behind me and find that in effect Todd has agreed with my choice of words, the look on his face decided and his arms crossed over his chest as he stands in the parlor's doorway.

We've been here for a week now and there has not been a day where Miranda does not try to sneak past us and down to the bake house, curious and daring as any other child who is told not to go somewhere.

"But I'm not scared of bugs! And I like scary things. I've read many stories with ghosts in them, maybe there's one down there who'll be my friend!" My breath gets caught in my throat as she says this. I glance at Todd, who is looking back at me. What Miranda talks about so effusively may not be far from the truth. "Perhaps he can even tell me what my baby brother will look like!"

Now wide-eyed, Todd and I stand speechless for a minute with our daughter staring at us like we've got watermelons for heads. He is the first one to recover and quickly strides over to where Miranda is sitting in a chair, where he kneels so he's eye-level with her.

"Listen, angel. I'm very aware you're a very brave, adventurous little girl. But I'm afraid what you want is impossible for two reasons: number one, the only worthy scary thing you'll find down there is a giant oven that can perfectly fit a little naughty girl who won't listen to her parents."

She keeps the frown in her face, but the beam appearing through the rising corners of her mouth is betraying her supposed anger. "And number two?"

"Well, no one will be able to tell you how your brother's going to look because you are having a _sister_."

This time she lets her forced frown fade and she loudly giggles. "No I am not! I'm having a brother!"

Todd tuts and gathers her in his arms, feigning concern, "Now you're not making sense! Maybe we should call a doctor."

Miranda shrieks in humorous horror as she's lifted from her chair and carried all the way to the front of the pie shop. I grin as I witness the scene and follow them into the shop, not before glancing precariously at the grim door leading downstairs.

…

The parlor seems impossibly dark as I sit here, and yet I can stare transfixed at the door on the wall opposite to me. I tried sleeping, but after two hours of shifting restlessly upon the rickety bed in Todd's old room, I gave up. I carefully climbed out, procuring to not wake my husband or daughter, and silently walked down the stairs that led to the pie shop.

And now I cannot get what Miranda said off my head. It had never occurred to me that of all the lifeless bodies that were led to the bake house after sinister acts took place above the shop, at least some part of them would leave their tormented souls hanging by the oven, down the sewers, behind the door…

At first my intentions were to open the damn door, walk down the stairs, take a look around the place to get the whole ordeal done with, and then return to bed and once again try to surrender to slumber, where my dreams would be full of lovely images of peaceful gleaming faces and no ghastly beings returning from the dead to haunt me for allegedly participating in their murder. Of course, this plan failed.

So now instead of feeling calm and resolute as I would after confronting my fears, I sit cold and miserable on an old settee by the fireplace where the flames have died (ironically) and left me glaring at the stupid door that holds guilt for all my current distress. I'm in the process of trying to burn a hole trough it with my eyes when I hear a faint chuckle coming from the pie shop's doorway.

Needless to say this scares the crap out of me, so I gasp and curse even after I realize it's only Todd, looking my way amusedly. I merely clutch my shawl and wrap it tighter around my shoulders to then resume my staring.

"Do you plan to stay there sending daggers with your eyes all night long?", he speaks with every ounce of amusement one uses when mocking someone close even though you know they're in dire stress.

"Do you plan to stand there all night while your daughter sleeps alone in a room previously used to slaughter necks?", I retort trying to use his tone, but it comes out as a crazy person attempting backtalk with no strength to do so.

"Shhhh!" he steps closer to whisper, "_Our daughter_ just woke me up to ask about your absence, and so had me accompany her all the way down here so she could use the toilet. She's only a thin wall away from you so keep your voice down!"

"What's wrong with the upstairs toilet?" I ask ignoring his rant.

"It's broken. I told you this morning."

"Oh." I avert my gaze. A thought suddenly hits me. "How come I didn't notice you coming in?"

"Ask the sodding door you almost knocked down with your glaring."

I huff impatiently. "You don't understand, Todd! Can't you see the cause of my agony?"

Even though I could see him rolling his eyes I chose to dismiss the action. He well knew my love for dramatics, "Did it not ever occur to you that beyond that door may lay thousands of restless souls on our account? Because of what we did? I tried to go down there and confront it once and for all, but I got scared and now the ghosts will torment me eternally!"

I release a choked breath and slump myself into his chest, hiding my face in his neck.

"Mina…" he whispers apologetically as he rubs my back. Over seven years ago, I found out Todd tended to be a bit more supportive when he took into account the fact that I was carrying his child. Now, pregnant once again, I am not ashamed to say I overdo it a little just to see how far he can go. "Come now, you're just tired. Let's go back to bed."

"Is that all you have to say?" I comment, my voice muffled by his shirt.

"I assure you everything will be fine. Nothing has ever tormented us in the past eight years, why should we worry about it now?"

I consider his statement, "I guess you're not entirely wrong."

He kisses my head, a gesture I don't get to experience very often. Again, carrying his child makes him mushier. "There's a good girl. Now let's go upstairs."

We are already halfway to his old room when I realize Miranda's not with us.

"Todd! Miranda! We left her in that god-awful dark place!"

The man looks back at me like I've suddenly grown a second head.

"Mina, Miranda walked right past us the second you started babbling about the agony you were immersed in."

"Oh." I break his gaze and keep walking up the stairs, not without looking back one last time at my husband. "And I never said I was _immersed_ in my agony! Seriously, stop being overly dramatic, for God's sakes."

Even with my back to him I practically hear his eyes rolling.

Several minutes later we settle in bed once again, Miranda already lying soundly asleep in the middle. Careful not to wake her, Todd slips one of his arms through the space on the pillow that is above her head to delicately run his fingers through my hair. He then reaches the back of my neck and leaves it there, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. I sigh and lean into his touch, grateful for these small moments we rarely have.

I look down at our daughter, who rests between us. She lies on her side, facing me. I reach for her face and softly remove a wild lock of black hair to tuck it behind her ear.

"You know, when I asked you if you'd said all you had to, I was not only referring to the baking house business." I comment, barely above a whisper.

"Hmm? How's that?"

"Come on, Todd. _That thing_ you never ever bother to say out loud? The one I've heard only two times since we're…together."

"Oh." Now was his turn to run out of words. "Mina, you know why I—"

"Yes, I understand the reason behind it." I'm practically hissing now. "But considering the situation overall, I might have thought it was worthy of saying it."

He stays silent, and yet I'm most certainly sure he's not asleep.

"That first time was just after we, ehem, _consumed_ the marriage, remember? And the famous second was the day Miranda was born." I pause to take a breath, trying to steady myself to no avail. "Dammit, Todd. Am I really going to have to wait until this baby comes out to hear you say you love me again?"

I hear him sigh heavily and through the darkness I can make out the movement his arm makes to rub a hand over his face.

"Mina, you know I do."

"Yes, and I'm very grateful you actually show it through actions, but I need to hear you say it once in awhile! Specially now…"

Silence.

He sighs. "Alright. Wilhelmina Todd Thatcher, I love you."

It is embarrassing to admit how giddy those few words make me feel, but I don't bother to hide it. Instead, I grin idiotically and prop myself on my elbow to lean over Miranda and plant a firm kiss on my husband's lips.

"Thank you."

"Thank you?" he repeats. I confirm my appreciation.

"Is that all you have to say?" he's mocking me.

"What?"

"Well, usually, when someone expresses his fondness toward another he expects to hear a similar reply."

"Right." I smile and nod, leaning so our lips touch again. "I, Wilhelmina Todd Thatcher, love you, Swee—Todd."

The last thing I hear is his deep chuckle before we press lips again.

….

*****SIX MONTHS LATER*****

"Can I hold him?"

Miranda is jumping up and down beside the bed I'm currently lying on, with the newest addition to our family in my arms. Todd, who sat on the edge of the bed beside me, sighed. Even though we'd told her—repeatedly—that fate had actually followed Todd's premonition and given us a baby girl instead of a boy, she refused to acknowledge the idea she didn't have a brother.

"_Her_, darling." I corrected. "And yes, climb on and sit next to me. Careful now. There you go." I carefully set the bundle of blankets in her arms, rearranging them so that she was properly holding the baby girl.

With a few hours into the world, Charlotte Ann Todd already matches the rest of her family. I am proud to boast the fact that this time my child does look like me, even if her features are merely a speck of what they will one day become. And even though her head is only half-covered in hair, its deep hue tells me it will eventually turn into the full black mane her father and sister share.

After a little while Miranda tires and hands me back the tiny baby, but before I'm able to grab her Todd cuts in and holds her to his chest. I lay back on the pillows and watch him looking down at Charlotte with the same expression he had on his face the first time he held Miranda; an expression I never saw again until tonight. I turn to our eldest daughter and ask her to bring me an extra pillow from the living room. Then I gaze once again at Todd, waiting for it, asking myself how much time it might take for him to gloat.

"When are you going to say it?" I ask, making him break from his reverie.

"Say wh—? Oh, sorry." He leans forward and places a kiss in my forehead. "I love you, darling."

I frown. "What? No! I meant—well, yes, I love you too, but I meant how much time are you taking before you start to brag?"

"Brag?"

"Yes, Mr. Know-it-all, about the baby's gender! You were the only one who got it right; even though I was the one supposed to know, with me being the person closest to her and having her inside me."

"I have no reason to do so." He frowns at my childish behavior. And just as he almost succeeds in making me feel like an idiot I hear him whisper, "Even though I knew from the beginning…"

"Ha! There it is! I knew you had issues, Todd, but I cannot believe you actually see us as some kind of reincarnation from your past life. This is just…"

What makes me stop mid-sentence is not the lack of an appropriate description of the situation, but the frightening stare Todd bestows on me.

"Take that back." His voice is low and rough, and when I hear him it downs on me it has been years since the last time I heard him speak to me like that. The threat ever so present in the serial killer he once was has now crept into what is supposed to be one of life's richest moments: the birth of a child. The thought of it sends a chill down my spine and I lose my ability to breathe when I gaze at the baby girl still peacefully resting in his arms.

I immediately try to retaliate what I meant, but the only thing that escapes my mouth is a series of shocked gasps and choking sounds. If there has been one moment of my life where I would give anything to turn time back, this is it.

"Todd, I—" he cuts me off by sharply standing up and turning toward the corner of the small room, where the baby's crib is settled. Part of my terror slips away as I watch him lay the baby with utmost care and gentleness, even though he is still visibly wrapped in anger.

He then turns around and once again regards me with his violent stare. I markedly gulp.

"Todd" I try to make my voice sound as even as possible, knowing I'm failing epically "Think twice before you commit anything rash. Remember I am the mother of your children!"

"Precisely." His voice has gone several notches softer, still severe though.

I falter in between my fear and confusion. "Well, yes I am."

"You are."

"Where are you getting with this?"

Todd sighs and sits beside me on the edge of the bed, and I feel stupid for saying this but when he puts an arm around my shoulders I flinch. Visibly. The smug bastard chuckles.

"It…astonishes me, how you formulate these colorful, though foolish, theories about me, Mina. It always has. But for you to even think…" he trails off and I once again fear he'll snap in any moment.

"I don't blame you, just so you know. It's the stupidest idea that has ever crossed you mind, and you've certainly had your share—" he stops me from retorting by putting his finger to my lips. "…but it is in part my own fault for not making any reassurances on the importance you and both our daughters have in my life."

As of on cue, Miranda strides into the room with a bunch of pillows in her arms, jumping into bed and landing where Todd's legs and my own touch. She stares at us with her face half pressed on the pile of pillows, breaking any tension that might have been left after the conversation Todd and I were having. I smile and reach to fondle her matted hair.

We stay in silence, relishing in the peace of the moment, until a cry emerges from the crib in the closest corner of the room. Without speaking, Todd stands to carry Charlotte and brings her back to where we all had settled comfortably. He hands her to me in a silent statement that informs me she's hungry, so I proceed to feed her.

Once Charlotte's busy having her meal, silence reigns again. Until Miranda speaks up.

"How did you know my baby brother would be a girl, daddy?"

He sighs. "I simply figured that if once again I was given a chance to love someone so much as I love you and your mother, it had to be as similar as possible. Now I have three angels whom I love and who love me in return. I don't even conceive any way I could ever live differently from the way I live now."

Although I pretend to be immersed in feeding the baby in my arms, I smile at his words. And even though I can't see him, I know he's smiling too. I then realize he was right. The demon barber who'd sworn revenge upon his lost family no longer exists, buried deep down with the memories of two beautifully delicate women broken by injustice and greed.

…**.****FIN…**

…..

_THANKS AGAIN! Oh, and just as I was finishing this I realized I named the children after half the main characters of 'Sex and the City'. Swear I didn't do it on purpose, I just like the names! _

_And I'm sorry for the exceeding OCness at the end. Fluff wins over me. _

_Love, _

_Niny_


End file.
